


Interwoven Threads

by CynthiaER



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Baggage, Eventual Romance, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Magic-Users, Slow Burn, Training
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:35:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 68,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27317104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynthiaER/pseuds/CynthiaER
Summary: After facing the evils of Neverland, Storybrooke’s new Mayor decides that inhabitants should be taught about the perils of magic. Skeptical about the Blue Fairy’s curriculum, Regina objects to the classes, beginning a series of events that will transform the town.*Canon divergent after Season 3, episode 9.  Pan is defeated in Neverland and Henry returns safely to Storybrooke with his family.
Relationships: Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan
Comments: 15
Kudos: 42





	1. After Neverland

**Author's Note:**

> This is the story of two woman falling in love amid the pressures of a magical town. Chapters will be uploaded once a week (Sundays). I hope you enjoy it ^-^.
> 
> This fic would not be what it is without the following people. Each of them has been instrumental in its shaping.
> 
> Sylencr - Whose enthusiasm helped rekindle my belief in the story and forge through plot points that were not cooperating.
> 
> UnfairestOfThemAll - Whose unending support and encouragement inspired me to share this story with the world.
> 
> Kitewalker - Whose friendship and motivational accusations pushed me to the finish line.

_~Emma_

Determined fingers tracing a path over her belly ease Emma into the timeless space of dreaming. It is all consuming and without the pesky interference of things like context and realism. Her dream body draws in a sharp breath. The movement makes her aware that her hands are bound to either side, feet spread a little farther than shoulder width and similarly restricted.

Beyond her body she can tell no more details – the space is simultaneously light and dark, its details unfocused. Not that she cares. The only thing that matters are those fingers; trailing lower and eliciting heady sensations. Generally, Emma's midriff is valiantly guarded due to her extreme ticklishness. This is a secret she's revealed to no one in Storybrooke for fear that it will be exploited. This man's fingers are roaming uninhibited over that very sensitive area, yet no giggles are bubbling up the blond's throat. No, far less innocent noises are currently issuing past her lips.

Emma feels unbearably hot. She doesn't seem to be wearing anything, yet perspiration is creating a sheen across her flesh. Tilting her head she looks down her body, trying to get a look at the man turning her into liquid flame. The previously unformed individual gradually takes shape, those relentless fingers forging searing paths over her hips.

 _A woman_ , is all Emma manages to discern before a sudden surge of pleasure causes her eyes to flutter closed. The discovery has no effect on her mood. Emma is no stranger to forays with those of the same sex, so her unconscious continues playing out the feverish vision. Her breath is coming in ragged gasps, the press of strong fingertips between her thighs causing a new wave of moisture to dampen her skin. The digits are skilled, their caresses stoking Emma's hunger without feeling rushed. One, slick, tip connects with the bundle at her legs' juncture and Emma releases a guttural noise, head rolling back then forward as the woman teases around the core of her heat.

“I want you,” she says, although how she speaks around the sounds this woman is eliciting remains a miracle of the dream world.

A low chuckle echoes around Emma – its timbre somehow reminding her of melted chocolate.

Mysterious. Seductive. Irresistible.

Fighting the haziness growing in her mind, Emma twists in her bonds. They do not budge. The woman is leaning in, dark hair framing her face - then Emma's brain shuts down again as a hot mouth engulfs her most private place. Her whole body arches toward the incredible sensation, nails biting into palms that itch to reach – Grasp – the vixen who's shamelessly finding her way deeper into Emma's core. She cries out, urging the woman on, that sexy chuckle causing a flash of fresh arousal to fog Emma's awareness.

Despite the unhurried pace, it isn't long before Emma's near her peak, a fact that has her lunging against her restraints. The ecstasy consuming her directly fueling the blond's desire for freedom.

 _I want to yank you up by your hair,_ she thinks at the black-haired siren – suddenly caught in an imagining of how she'd pillage that amazing mouth. Tasting herself on the other's tongue. The desire to make this woman beg, just as she is forcing Emma to do, is nearly as powerful as her lust. Her hands twist and tug – desperate to touch the person taking such liberties with her body. Wanting this euphoric torture to end... yet also wanting it to go on forever.

“I need you,” she begs, legs trembling.

A kiss is placed on her left thigh – the tenderness causing Emma's brows to furrow with confusion – before she's watching the woman pull away to look up at her. Plump, red lips are shining with moisture –

 _Mine_ , Emma thinks -

White teeth showcasing a suggestive grin. She's beautiful; face flushed, eyes dark with the same ardour Emma's feels pounding in her blood.

Then recognition sets the world spinning around her.

_Wait - is that?_

And the dream is gone, leaving Emma alone in the loft bed of the apartment she shares with David and Mary Margaret. The sheets are tangled around her, clearly illustrating where the illusion of bondage came from. Her body is burning with unfulfilled sexual tension, Emma's heart going a million miles a minute. But it isn't the contents of the dream that's causing cold dread to form in her stomach. Emma rarely has such dreams, but considers them perfectly natural, especially given how long it's been since she's had any form of sexual release. It is who the dream chose to seek that release with that concerns her.

 _Is Regina playing some sick joke on me?_ Emma can't think of a reason why she would, but nor can she fathom why she'd be dreaming about the ex-Mayor in such a way. If Regina is involved in the occurrence, her intent can only be to embarrass Emma. The blond cannot think of any recent event where she's incurred Regina's wrath, but it wouldn't be the first time she'd unknowingly pissed the brunette off.

Running hands through her hair, she decides that a cold shower is the only way to fix her current problem. If Regina is behind that extremely... uncomfortable dream then Emma does not want to give her the satisfaction of succumbing to its effects by finishing herself. Once cooled off, she'll formulate a plan to determine whether the reformed Evil Queen is the culprit or her own overzealous hormones.  
  


* * *

  
“Emma! What are you doing here?”

“Came to see you, kid,” Emma successfully manages to ruffle Henry's hair, a noise of light-hearted disapproval escaping him. Taking a cursory scan of their surroundings, the blond notes Regina's car is not yet present. She has about two minutes before the brunette arrives to pick up her adopted son. Swallowing her anxiety, Emma gives Henry the biggest smile she can manage. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine, I'm no longer the most exciting person in school.”

“Oh, and who has the honour of replacing you?” She chuckles.

“Harriet. Her brother got caught in the pen with Mrs. Pentworth's pig,” Henry replies.

“There's just no end to the excitement here in Storybrooke, is there?” Taking a steadying breath, Emma leans closer. “How's your mom?”

Henry's smile shifts but doesn’t vanish. Emma can practically see the gears in his head working, calculating how much is safe to say. They've made a lot of progress towards becoming a family, yet it will take time to build the long lasting trust they need.

“Good. I think she feels out of place here now, though. Helping to rescue me improved her image with the town but they... to them she's still the Evil Queen.”

Emma nods. “And she no longer has a job to keep her occupied. Are you worried about her?”

Henry glances in the direction of the street. Noting that the mom they are discussing has not yet arrived, he replies, “She acts tougher than she is. She's happy to have me living with her again, but I think she's still unsure of how she fits into this new Storybrooke.”

“After everything that's happened here, and to her, I'd be surprised if she wasn't. But she - does she seem ok with... me?”

Henry's expression makes Emma think he’s questioning her sanity, then a genuine smile spreads across his face. “She likes you Emma. You two are the heroes now.”

Emma is not certain she can completely rely on Henry's simplified version of reality, but further inquiry is denied when Regina's Mercedes pulls up to the curb. Taking another deep breath – how often has she felt the need to do that today? - Emma plasters on a friendly smile.

Regina extracts herself from the car with a grace and confidence that still impresses Emma. Today, the former Mayor is wearing a gray pant suit, black heels adding height and intimidation to the ensemble. Not that Regina needs the fashionable attire to increase her formidable presence. Her gaze can freeze a person's blood, the powerful mix of cunning and beauty a lethal weapon against any opponent. Although she'd first felt its weight the night they met, Emma Swan has spent her childhood in the care of people who shared aspects of Regina's character. She knows how to handle herself around them. Thankfully, the need for most of her defense mechanisms has all but vanished since their adventures in Neverland.

“Hey Regina,” Emma hopes her voice contains the usual amount of warmth. Regina is uncannily good at reading her.

“Good day, Miss Swan. I hope nothing's the matter?”

Emma might have suspected she meant more by the comment except that Regina's eyes are locked on Henry. Now that the brunette is present, Emma’s beginning to feel foolish for suspecting Regina might be responsible for her heated fantasy. Still, the blond isn't clearing her of all blame just yet.

“Nope, just wanted to say hi to Henry.” Patting her son on the back, Emma takes a step away. “Do you guys have any plans for the evening?”

“Mom's lasagna!” Henry exclaims.

Regina fails to hide the pleasure his words evoke.

Emma laughs. “I don't think I've seen anyone get as excited about lasagna as you do.” Turning her head to look at Regina, Emma continues, “But I will agree that it is pretty amazing.”

“Come on Henry, I think it's time we got you home,” Regina's lack of reaction to her comment irks Emma, but she forgets the feeling at Henry's next words.

“Can Emma come for dinner?”

Regina is clearly taken aback by the question. It isn't as if they don't spend time together on a regular basis. Since returning to the town, they've established a routine of sorts where Henry comes to visit Emma and his grandparents a couple evenings a week after school, sharing his free days between his whole - now much expanded - family. Mary Margaret, David, Emma, Regina, and Henry have begun making a habit of dinner at Granny’s on Fridays where they chat about the week. This will be the fourth week of such a ritual.

There are moments when the former Mayor's presence brings about awkward silences, but she is far more part of their dynamic since confronting Peter Pan with the Charmings at her side. Neal doesn't join them for which Emma is secretly grateful. She likes having the time with just her immediate family. God knows they come with enough baggage between them. Even Mr. Gold had stopped by once, although he hadn't lingered. He’s far more concerned with re-establishing a connection between himself and his son.

Despite these regular rendezvous, the three of them - Henry and his two mothers - do not spend a lot of time without an entourage, so the concept of such an evening is foreign to both women. Not so to their son.

“Can she?”

“Oh, well I'm sure Miss Swan has other plans...,” Regina glances at Emma, although the look is not immediately identifiable.

“Actually, I don't, really, so if it'd be alright...”

“Please Mom?!”

Apparently finding herself without a reasonable excuse, Regina lets out a dramatic sigh. “I suppose she can join us. I only hope that I won't have to share every evening with a member of the Charming clan.”

“Thanks Mom!” Henry gives her a one armed hug and grins up at her.

Feeling left out, Emma shuffles her feet until mother and son remember that she’s there.

“Dinner's at six, Miss Swan.”

“Thanks, I'll be there.” Emma watches the boy and his adoptive mother enter Regina's Mercedes before turning back towards her own car.

 _Perhaps I’ll see if Regina is up to something over dinner._

If nothing else, she knows the food will be delicious.


	2. Dinner

_ ~Regina _

Regina is drying her hands on a towel when the doorbell rings. Since Henry is still working on his homework upstairs, she removes her apron, folds it neatly over the back of a chair and goes to greet their dinner guest. While she'd originally been irked by Henry's spontaneous invitation, she finds herself giving his birth mother a genuine smile as she opens the door. “You're early.”

“Yeah, I, uh, hope that isn't a problem.” Emma Swan is an expert at the kicked-puppy face, the very same one Henry usually plays to get his own way. The grown woman has been wearing it more recently, at least in her presence. Regina is not sure whether this signals an improvement over Emma's previous tendency to wear a determined face. Whatever it means, Regina finds herself thankful that their relationship is less antagonistic.

“Not at all, Miss Swan. Please come in.”

“I brought some wine,” the blond holds out a bottle which Regina accepts somewhat warily.

“That was not necessary.”

“It's the least I can do since you're cooking,” Emma gives one of her small smiles that makes Regina uncomfortable.

“I was going to assign you clean-up duty.” The blond's change of expression is comical, but Regina keeps her face neutral. “Don't look so distraught, it's Henry's night but I'm sure he would appreciate the help.”

“Oh, of course.” Smiling once more, Emma removes her shoes and follows Regina into the kitchen.

“Everything is ready, Henry is finishing his homework and should be down soon.” Placing the bottle of wine in the cooler for later, Regina turns to face Snow White's daughter, suddenly awkward in her own home. It is not a feeling she appreciates. Despite knowing that Emma's intentions are not devious, Regina still finds it difficult not to fall into the old habit of confrontation. Being civil is something she's far less practiced at. Thankfully, she has no problem holding out until someone else feels the need to break a silence.

“So.... how are things going? Getting back to normal?” Emma is standing at the end of the island, obviously not sure what to do with her empty hands. 

A surge of bitterness rises into Regina's mind. Where once she would have fed and drawn strength from it, she now pushes the feeling away with a resigned breath.

“As much as they can be with Snow White running the town,” pulling salad from the frig, Regina tosses it again to distribute the dressing. After a silence just long enough for Emma to start squirming, she decides to increase that discomfort, but in a more personal way. “Have your two beaus managed to control their desire to prove themselves? Or are they in jail again?”

Emma's cringe makes up for the initial unpleasant conversation topic. Regina knows that the blond is not interested in either man, their determination to woo her a constant headache. “No, but I'm still getting flowers every morning. Killian has signed up for the Community Improvement Group headed by Mary Margaret. No doubt he's hoping to win points with her as well as me.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Regina turns to face Emma who is now leaning on the island, momentarily lost in her thoughts. “It must be difficult, having two men fighting over you.”

“You're enjoying every minute of it,” Emma retorts with an indignant huff.

“Yes and no.”

The answer surprises Emma whose attention snaps back to the brunette. “What does that mean?”

“That, while the embarrassment the situation brings you is of enormous pleasure to me, it is also a reminder that I will never be in a similar one.”

Emma's face softens, the expression reminiscent of Snow White's, yet completely different. “You're not who you used to be. You'll find someone, if you want to.”

“I highly doubt that.”

Henry chooses that moment to come thundering down the stairs, cutting off whatever Emma had been going to say.

“Moms! Is dinner ready?”

“Indeed it is, Henry. Could you please set the table?” Regina gives him a warm smile.

“Sure!”

“I'll help you, kid,” Emma offers.

Ten minutes later they are seated at the dining room table, Regina serving healthy portions of lasagna while Emma and Henry grudgingly put small samples of 'rabbit food' on their plates. The meal passes in conversation about Henry's school work, both his mothers pleased that some degree of normalcy has returned to Storybrooke. The most interesting nugget of information comes as they are beginning to stack the plates.

"The Blue Fairy is going to teach us the fundamentals of magic on Fridays."

While Regina mostly manages to contain her surprise, Emma's is reflected when she nearly topples the water jug beside her.

"She's what?!" The blonde exclaims, obviously no more pleased with the idea than Regina.

"Hey, don't worry, she's not teaching us how to use magic, just its theory. And what's known about its origins."

"And the new Mayor thought this would be a good idea?" Regina can tell Henry's purposely left this juicy tidbit for the end of the meal, hoping to weasel out of too much questioning. A result she has no intention of giving him.

"Yeah, Snow spoke to us before formally announcing it."

"One would think she'd see the value in public consultation before implementing something so controversial."

"I suppose we'll get to find out tomorrow," Emma appears to have regained control of her motor functions, directing her whole attention at Henry. "So what were Mary Margaret's reasons?"

For someone who'd previously been so against magic, Henry is displaying a great deal of enthusiasm, his attempts at hiding it failing completely. "That knowledge is the best protection we can have," he pauses for dramatic effect then continues when his mothers do not react, "since magic's returned to Storybrooke we all need to know what it is and how to avoid the pitfalls that hurt so many in the Enchanted Forest."

Regina waits for condemnation. When it doesn't come she exhales in relief. Perhaps her efforts to be good are making an impression on him.

"Well, I suppose there's logic in that," Emma reflects, twirling a strand of her hair as she thinks. "Every time I turn round I'm learning that magic can perform some additional miraculous or horrific feat. From what little I've gathered even those from the Enchanted Forest do not really understand it."

"And they shouldn't. Magic is dangerous. It has no place in the classroom," Regina can feel the anger radiating off her skin, the very force she's speaking against tingling at the ends of her fingers. "You will not be attending these sessions."

Emma's raised hand stops an outburst from Henry. Regina can see the blond preparing to play devil's advocate. Reluctantly, she reigns in the desire to seal any such feedback with a twitch of her fingers.

"I may not know much, but I know enough to agree with Regina that magic is dangerous. I think no one knows this better than our family." The words placate Henry and stir a surprising emotion in Regina's chest. Keeping a firm grip on her skepticism, she focuses on Emma's next words. Sure enough, the 'but' comes in her following phrase.

"I can't say that knowledge would have prevented some of the horrible things that have occurred, but I don't think it could have hurt. At least it allows for informed decisions," Emma looks at Regina who refuses to acknowledge the sensible statement. Turning her attention to Henry, Emma continues. "I think that Mother Superior can be trusted to not unnecessarily endanger the students, but I also think she may bring a biased view. That's why I think Regina should also be part of these sessions."

"What?!" Mother and son exclaim in unison, both too focused on Emma to acknowledge their shared response.

"That is out of the question, Miss Swan."

"You could keep an eye on Henry, isn't that what you want?" The challenge in Emma's eyes rekindles some of her previous anger.

"Yes but not having him in the class would be a far simpler solution."

"You can help them to understand-"

"I doubt that any of the parents will appreciate this addition to the curriculum anymore than I do," Regina's voice is like ice, "and I know they will not accept my involvement."

Thankfully, Emma lets the subject drop, ushering Henry into the kitchen where they set about cleaning up.

Suddenly exhausted, Regina retreats into her study, pours herself a glass of cider and begins pacing the room. She has no desire to hear what Emma and Henry are discussing. _  
__  
__They are likely scheming ways to attend the classes despite my ultimatum._ They won't see her decision as protecting Henry - only controlling him.

Taking a long drink, she peers out the window into the darkness. Of course they associate evil magic with her, and that she could never be anything more. They can't understand how powerful the lure of magic can be, how even a little knowledge can ruin lives.

Emma's words punctuate her spiraling thoughts. The blond had suggested she assist with the teaching - why had she done that? It would gain her no points with Henry who considered her magic pure evil, and certainly no points with the town if she pursued the matter further. She had to know it was a terrible idea all around. Her very suggesting it indicates how solidly embedded the Charming stupidity genes truly are.

A knock has her spinning about, fireball ready in her free hand. There stands Emma, her bottle of wine and two glasses clutched in her hands, eyes wide with shock. No fear Regina notes, not sure how she feels about that reality.

"Woe, chill Regina. It's only me," she tilts her head toward the objects in her hands, "thought you could use a drink after tonight's revelations."

Ashamed of her startled reaction, Regina asserts her control over the situation by dissipating the fireball with an elegant wrist flick then eyeing her companion haughtily. “Just preparing for the Blue Fairy's child army.”

Setting the bottle and glasses on the table between the two couches, Emma closes the door then turns to face Regina. “Henry's watching T.V. We've finished cleaning up.” Taking a deep breath, Emma spouts what sounds like a rehearsed speech. “I thought you might like to discuss the magic classes - .”

“There's nothing further to discuss. Henry will not be attending.”

Emma's spine straightens at the hard tone, her eyes lighting with determination. “I understand why you don't like magic-.”

“You can't begin to understand,” Regina had meant to maintain the power in this exchange, but finds herself unable to meet Emma's gaze.

“Magic made your life a living hell.”

The statement summarises the truth so effectively that Regina has to close her eyes against tears. This woman already knows more about her than she has a right to. Regina will not give her the self-righteous satisfaction of witnessing how deeply this topic affects her. Her eyes open when Emma takes a step closer, face betraying none of her thoughts.

Emma looks concerned, but not pitying. There is that feeling again. Gratitude is one of many emotions Regina finds herself dealing with now that she is letting people into her life. As much as she wants to hate Emma for what and who she is, their relationship is beyond such base animosity.

A warm hand touches her arm and Regina's lip trembles. Despite her best efforts, the older woman feels herself giving into weakness. After all these years she thought she'd finished grieving for her cursed life. Didn't it figure that Snow White's daughter would be her undoing?

“This is hard,” Emma's voice is soft, almost hypnotic, “it wasn't right of Mary Margaret to implement this without your input.”

“She's always thought she knew best,” Regina can hear the strain in her voice, yet makes no effort to regain her composure.

“I had no idea she was doing this. I'm sure it's coming from her heart, but this is a sensitive matter. It's understandable why she'd choose Mother Superior as the teacher, but she needs someone who did not always have magic – someone who can explain the lure and dangers from experience.”

“I'm trying to be better, to not use magic,” this is why she never wants to be alone with Emma Swan. The damn woman knows how to push all her buttons and break through her walls. That's what comes from too much shared history.

The understanding smile on Emma's face eases some of the darkness numbing her body. “You won't have to use magic. This is to help the children protect themselves so they don't make the mistake of dabbling. Or making a deal with Gold.”

Now there's a cause she can get behind. If that imp never makes another deal she will die a happy woman. Not that he couldn't weasel himself into desperate situations, but that's what this is about, isn't it? Knowing what you're getting yourself into. If only someone had warned her.

Stepping out of Emma's touch, Regina pours a measure of deep burgundy wine into the two glasses. The idea is a disaster. Now that she is alone with Emma, however, Regina can acknowledge it's her fear driving that determination. Knowledge can be more powerful than magic, when used correctly.

As for her participation in the teaching, as much as she loathes sharing herself with outsiders, Regina can ensure the Blue Fairy isn't pushing some agenda. The woman might be a user of light magic, but she is nearly as manipulative as Cora.

“No one will let me within ten feet of their children,” Regina hands a glass to Emma.

“You proved yourself in Neverland.”

“Perhaps to your parents, but the rest of the townsfolk will not accept Snow White's verdict alone.”

Taking a sip from her glass, Emma's attention turns inward. Following the woman's example, Regina's pleased to discover that the blond has managed to procure a half decent vintage. “Well, then we show them,” Emma says suddenly. She flushes at Regina's raised eyebrow then continues her thought. “You remember our lessons in Neverland?”

“How could I forget? You were such a diligent student.”

The sheepish smirk lingers several seconds before Emma resumes her determined expression. “Well, I've been thinking it might be good for us to continue, I mean, you continue to teach me.” She pauses as if waiting for a response, but then hurries on before Regina can form one. “I want to control my magic, I don't want anything bad to happen because I'm untrained. The townspeople still see me as their Saviour. If they see us working together, you helping me, they may trust you to help with the magic lessons.”

Regina might have enjoyed Emma's nervousness if her head hadn't suddenly been consumed with more pressing concerns. Formally teach Emma? The idea never occurred to her. In Neverland it had been a necessity. Storybrooke's Sheriff is capable of handling any normal disturbance that might arise, but, with magic back, some of those will inevitably be magical in nature. Emma also seems to have grasped the more subtle threat of magic. Its influence on a person who possesses it can be more destructive than if externally imposed. Mastering control is definitely something she should do. And the people of Storybrooke definitely look up to their Saviour...

“The idea has merit,” Regina admits.

Emma's face lights up and Regina finds herself smiling back at the blond. “A toast then,” Emma declares, raising her glass, “to Operation Magical Reformation.... and to annoying the hell out of Mother Superior.”

Regina can't help the chuckle that escapes her lips, some of the tension easing out of her chest as their glasses connect.  
  
_Maybe this won’t be a complete disaster._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters are uploaded once a week (Sunday).


	3. Dynamics

_~Emma_

_Why I ever thought Regina would purposely conjure such visions.._. 

Emma shakes her head, tucking the sheets snugly under her chin. Her head is buzzing pleasantly from the wine, belly full of a good meal and a plan of action before her. She is more than happy to put grand adventures behind and concentrate on the smaller world of Storybrooke. No monsters or strange visitors are needed to keep things interesting now. One pawnbroker with a limp and an ex-Mayor are quite enough.

Smiling to herself, Emma sifts through the events of the evening. It had gone surprisingly well, particularly considering Henry's revelation. Regina had been more... raw. More real than she ever is when they encounter each other around town. It makes sense that she would be more comfortable in her home, yet the lack of mask says more about how far their relationship has come. The dynamic is no longer a power struggle between two independent women. It is one of friendship.

_She doesn't always like me,_ Emma chuckles, rolling onto her side, _but she knows she can rely on me_. Contented by that notion, Emma drifts into a dreamless sleep.  
  


* * *

  
Mary Margaret keeps an earlier schedule than Emma. Nevertheless, the Sheriff ensures she's ready for the day when she steps into their shared kitchen. The new Mayor is already there, preparing breakfast. David takes Emma's place in the bathroom, leaving mother and daughter alone, a fact for which Emma is grateful. This discussion is going to be difficult enough with just one of her parents present.

“Morning Emma!” Mary Margaret's bright smile lifts Emma's heart. Sadly, the expression is not one she’s seen a lot of lately. The stress of taking over Regina’s Mayoral position generally means her mother’s smiles are overshadowed by furrowed brows and exhausted eyes. 

After two weeks of trying to manage on her own she’d accepted Mother Superior’s assistance, a decision that no doubt contributed to this announcement about magic lessons. As much as she’s pleased by Mary Margaret’s upbeat mood, Emma almost wishes it had occurred on another day. Her intended topic is likely to erase the expression.

“Morning Mary Marg-.”

“Mom?” The woman's raised eyebrows cause Emma to sigh. Perhaps it is time she started referring to her by that title. Even now, however, the concept is foreign. Sometimes she misses just having a friend to talk to without all the additional baggage.

“Yeah,” Emma smiles, hoping it will placate the woman. Mary Margaret/Snow White/her mother appears to be having one of her more confident days. Whether that will work in Emma's favour is yet to be seen.

“You're up early. Want some eggs?”

“Yes please,” she replies, waiting barely a heartbeat before saying. “I wanted to talk to you.” Her serious tone brings Mary Margaret's attention away from the frying pan.

“Something up?”

“Oh, well, only the fact that Mother Superior is going to be hosting magic classes on Fridays.” Emma watches her mother's expression closely. A lack of reaction is not what she expected, but it isn't defensiveness either. 

“I thought I'd mentioned it to you.” Her mother states.

Emma shakes her head, seating herself on a stool at the island. “You probably told David. If you'd told me we would have had a memorable discussion.”

“They're classes on the Theory and Pitfalls of Corporeal Phenomena.” Mary Margaret says, cracking eggs into the sizzling pan.

“If you're calling them that no wonder the residents haven't realised what they are,” Emma sighs. “Figures it would take children to see through such a fancy title.”

“You don't like the idea?” Mary Margaret is looking fixedly at the breakfast cooking before her. The people-pleaser in Emma is momentarily wracked with nerves about what to say.

“I don't think it's a bad idea,” Emma shifts on the stool, taking a deep breath. “I just think you should have discussed it with the town first. I don't imagine it'll go over well.”

“The ones I spoke to yesterday seemed to understand the logic.”

“Yesterday? At the school?”

“I had a few phone calls,” she shrugs, “I was expecting them. No one here is untouched by magic. I explained my reasons and that seemed to be enough.”

“It won't be for everyone.”

“That's why I'm going to be at the school for the rest of the week,” she hands Emma's plate to her. “The Blue Fairy and I will address whatever concerns the people of Storybrooke have.”

Seating herself across from Mary Margaret at the dining room table, Emma takes a bite of her breakfast, unsure how to broach the subject of Regina. Displaying its distinct lack of humour, the universe provides her with a segue.

“Since you weren't home when David and I went to bed I assume your dinner with Regina went well?” Mary Margaret asks halfway through her meal.

“Yes, all things considered. Henry's announcement about the Theory and Pitfalls of Corp... what was it again?”

“The Theory and Pitfalls of Corporeal Phenomena,” her mother repeats, smirking.

“Yes, that. Henry's announcement about the... TPCP soured the mood, but we got past it.” 

Mary Margaret perks up at the information. “So, she's alright with the lessons?”

Laughing dryly, Emma shakes her head. “Definitely not. I can see her point - I see yours too,” she cuts off her mother, “but magic deeply affected her life, arguably more than anyone else's'. It's no wonder she wouldn't want Henry exposed to it, no matter how innocuous. That's why,” hearing the bathroom door open, Emma speaks faster, “I think Regina should be involved with the classes.”

“Regina?” Had Emma suggested such a thing before their Neverland adventures Mary Margaret's defensive reaction would have been far more violent. Despite their improved relations, it will still take time for her mother to truly consider the woman reformed. Emma understands why, but can't always contain her frustration over everyone's attitudes toward the ex-Mayor. 

She feels she knows Regina better than anyone else in no small part due to how similar their histories are. Yes, Regina has done terrible things, but so has Emma. Now they are united for their son, trying to keep Storybrooke safe for the sake of those they care about. Having had her own second chance, Emma one hundred percent supports Regina in her struggle for redemption.

“Yes,” she continues, “since Regina was seduced by magic and manipulated by two powerful individuals, her experience would be invaluable to the lessons. And since there's no practical element, there's no reason anyone should be concerned.”

Emma can see David leaning on the railing of the stairs just behind Mary Margaret, listening unobtrusively.

“I truly do understand your rationale.” Her mother responds. “But it's been an uphill battle to get this implemented, I only managed because of the Blue Fairy's reputation. If I proposed letting Regina take part I'd have a revolt on my hands.” Mary Margaret looks genuinely unhappy, although how much of that is related to Regina or her own struggle to maintain the trust of Storybrooke's residents Emma isn't sure. Since cynicism is currently trumping optimism, Emma finds the latter motivation more convincing.

“I know. That's why she will be teaching me how to control my magic,” the blond states.

“What?” This time it's David who responds, although he appears to have taken the word out of his wife's mouth. He comes to stand at Mary Margaret's left shoulder, his gaze pinned on Emma. The mix of fatherly concern and skepticism always makes her more uncomfortable than any expression her mother bestows.

“I need to learn to control my magic,” Emma tries to remain conversational. Too often in her past she's handled these types of discussions defensively, a strategy that rarely resulted in harmonious consequences. “Gold certainly isn't about to do so willingly, and I do not want him as my teacher. Nor do I feel comfortable with Mother Superior or, I should say, 'the Blue Fairy'. Regina's my friend. I trust her. She'll be able to help me avoid magic's dangers while I master it.”

“Is that really necessary?” David asks. “We've seen what magic did to her.”

“All the more reason for her to teach me, and others,” Emma looks imploringly between her parents. “My magic isn't going away. If I don't learn to control it I could make something bad happen. I don't want to endanger you or Henry or the town.” She lets her words sink in before continuing.

“Regina's part of our family now. It's not always easy for her, but she's overcoming her darkness for us. If everyone continues seeing her as the Evil Queen that's all she'll ever be. I want her to get an opportunity to show the town she's changed. Teaching me is a start, but having her teach side by side with... Blue will more directly illustrate her sincerity to everyone.”

David and Mary Margaret do not look convinced, but Emma can tell she's successfully appealed to their moral sensibilities. They'll give Regina a chance. Now she just has to convince the rest of Storybrooke to do the same.

“Alright Emma, how do you propose we go about this?” Mary Margaret begins cleaning up the breakfast dishes, glancing at the clock.

“I head to the school with you. David is planning to be there, right?” He nods. “Regina's going to come looking for more information after dropping Henry off. I imagine she won't be alone. David can handle crowd control while we announce that she'll be training me. It might be best to postpone the classes for a few weeks to give everyone time to adjust to it.”

“And the Blue Fairy?”

Swallowing, Emma rubs her temple. She suspects the fairy will be the most difficult person to convince. The woman seems to only view the world in extremes. To her, Regina is incapable of change.

“I don't expect you to handle her alone. It'll take more than helping me for Regina to get a chance with her.” Steadying her voice, Emma says with more confidence than she feels, “I'll convince her.”  
  


* * *

  
All told, the day had not been a complete train wreck. Emma'd expected the mob of angry and frightened parents that filled the auditorium. She'd expected the sudden hush when Regina stormed in, nearly blowing both swinging doors off their hinges. Despite her theatrics, the ex-Mayor had remained controlled and more calm than Emma's seen her in less controversial situations. In fact, Emma later determines that Regina's entrance is the bright spot in her day. 

They'd discussed how Regina should handle the encounter in her study the previous evening. The conspirator's smile Emma struggled to hide at the school had nearly broken loose when Regina'd given a truly terrifying smile to the room before departing. The entire assembly had literally cowered. That act hadn't really helped their cause to increase the townsfolk's trust in her, but it was so Regina that Emma couldn't fault her.

The cascade of questions following Emma's declaration that Regina would be teaching her how to use magic only occurred after the brunette’s exit. Thankfully, Regina's show of strength had bolstered Emma's so that she met every challenge and suspicion with calm confidence. Their shared moment of alliance during the announcement had thrown a lot of people off. Now those people were eager to confirm that their Saviour was not being manipulated. Although she felt disheartened at having to prove her sincerity so visually, Emma even displayed her own heart to them. Unlike taking the heart of another, that skill could be acquired over a glass of wine.

The congregation was further placated by Mary Margaret's concession that the TPCP lessons would not commence until the upcoming month, neither mother or daughter giving away that this hadn’t already been planned. Hopefully, by the time the lessons began, Storybrooke's residents would be willing to give Regina a chance.

The far more difficult discussion came later that day when Emma and Mary Margaret proposed including Regina to the Blue Fairy. Although she had not been present at the school to personally hear Emma's intention to train with the ex-Evil Queen, the woman had heard about it by the time they arrived at the convent.

Words of caution and disapproving looks were all the input she had on the matter, but when the suggestion of teaching alongside Regina was introduced Blue rejected it outright. Under no circumstances could she be persuaded otherwise, and Emma had exhausted all the possibilities she'd considered when their meeting adjourned.

Feeling foul-tempered, she drifted off from Mary Margaret, circling the pond in the public park to ease some of her temper. The whole thing was so ludicrous! 

Yes, the people of Storybrooke had good reason to distrust magic. Yes, Regina had done horrible things. Yes, including her in the lessons came with some risk. But nobody seemed able to look beyond their fear and see Regina as a human being! 

_Maybe they can't,_ Emma realised suddenly, pausing to stare at herself in the murky water. _I am, after all, the only one besides Henry who grew up outside the Enchanted Forest. I never knew her as the woman these people did. Perhaps I'd be no different if I had._

The sound of shuffling feet brings Emma back to the present, spinning about to see who is behind her.

“Hey,” Neal says offhandedly, giving her a small smile.

Caught between polar opposite emotions, Emma replies just as neutrally. “Hey.”

“Saw you walking alone and wondered if you'd like some company.”

It would have been easy to send him away, but Neal doesn't really deserve the cold shoulder she's been giving him. Emma isn't sure she'll ever be able to forgive him for betraying her, but he is part of Henry's life and for that reason alone she is going to try and be friendly. She also doesn't feel like keeping her spiraling thoughts to herself.

“Yeah, I've got a lot on my mind.” He falls in beside her and listens as she recounts the past twenty-four hours, ending on the stalemate with Blue. “It's not like I don't understand why she feels that way, but Regina's not that person anymore. I think she needs to be part of this so that everyone can see who she really is. It might even help her better understand herself.”

“When did you become a psychologist?” Neal inquires with a quirk of his lips.

Smiling despite herself Emma shrugs, steering them toward a nearby bench.

“Well, it seems to me that there's only one solution,” Neal states as they sit down.

“And that is?” Emma kicks a pebble into the water a few feet away.

“Regina should host her own lessons.”

Despite her reservations about doing so, Emma meets Neal's gaze.

“Makes sense, right? Hold them after school one evening a week in a neutral location. It would be open to parents and students. There'd likely only be parents at first, but once they see Regina's not a threat they might come around.”

“You really think anyone would show up in the first place?”

“Who wouldn't want to know more about the Evil Queen?” He replies earnestly. “Once people are assured that there's no danger I imagine you'll have a captive audience.”

Emma's mind is blissfully calm as she slowly turns over this new possible solution. “I think it could work,” she finally replies, attention still turned inward.

“Happy to help,” Neal's tone prompts her to focus on him once more, the hope she sees in his eyes causing some of her stress to return.

“Thanks Neal, I'd best get going. Lots of planning to do you know.” She rises from the bench, the man mirroring her movements.

“No problem, hey, uh, see you soon?”

“Yeah, see you.” When she's out of sight Emma lets out the breath she's been holding. _Maybe one of these days my life will stop taking on more drama._ Stuffing her hands in her jacket pockets, Emma begins the twenty minute walk back to the apartment, all too ready for an end to the action-packed day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters are uploaded once a week (Sunday).


	4. Magic

_ ~Regina _

As the tendrils of fog clear from Regina's brain, part of her acknowledges that she's having one of  those dreams. They've become less frequent since the curse broke - too many other things on her mind. Now that events have quieted down, she is not surprised by their return.

The man currently straddling her is thinner than most from her fantasies, his chest lightly sprinkled with hair. Large hands are running over her shoulders, massaging her tense muscles. A moan of pleasure escapes her lips and she wraps legs around his hips. The man makes a guttural sound, knowing he's trapped. 

Unperturbed, he sucks her left nipple into his mouth, adding fire to the pleasure. One of her hands sneaks into his hair, pressing him against her breasts. Blond. She's never found blond-haired men as attractive as their dark-haired counterparts. Still, Regina is not going to complain when this fellow is so effectively stimulating her. The tingling numbness left in the wake of his massage is steadily replaced by a wanton heat demanding satisfaction.

Generally, Regina is more comfortable as the sexual dominant. A powerful man in her bed offers a thrill, but she does not enjoy feeling out of control. Her life has involved far too much of that. This man does not stir the same defensiveness in her, but, since it's a dream, circumstances are allowed to differ from reality. One hand is playing with the breast not in his mouth, the other gradually making its way towards her burning core, taking its sweet time by travelling the dips and ridges of her body.

“Oh,” she moans. The man chuckles in response. His noise is strange, but when his fingers finally make contact with the bundle of nerves between her thighs, all thought flees Regina's mind. The man's fingers dip inside her, then withdraw to stroke. The act is repeated just often enough to keep the friction from becoming too rough, pulling her slowly, yet determinedly, toward ecstasy.

She expects him to enter her with more than his fingers before she peaks, but he maintains a steady pattern with wet fingers, only shifting to transfer his mouth from breast to neck. Regina becomes more vocal the closer she nears climax, free to let go of her control while in this fake world. The man's breathing grows laboured alongside hers, his own noises fueling her rise. 

After too long, yet not nearly long enough, Regina's awareness explodes with stars. As the ripples of release roll over her shaking body, the man gazes up at her, vivid green eyes cradling her with their warm depths. Regina knows those eyes and cannot stop herself falling into the support and comfort they promise.

Blinking slowly, she savours the dream's after effects as long as possible. With no reason to get up, she doesn't need to put the tantalizing fantasy away quite yet. Henry spent the night with Emma and his grandparents so there isn't even the need to prepare a timely breakfast. Despite her best efforts, thoughts of mundane routines successfully banish her blond lover with the haunting green eyes, leaving Regina no reason to linger in her bed.

Stretching, she runs hands over her face then makes her way into the bathroom. She knows from the text Emma'd sent yesterday that the magic lessons have been postponed, but has yet to hear how the conversation with the Blue Fairy went. Not well is undoubtedly the answer. Although there is a chance that the Saviour's friendship will change some people's minds about her, Regina is not in the habit of fooling herself. The Blue Fairy will never agree to teach alongside her. That fact doesn't particularly bother her. It's the consequences of the reality that has a headache starting.

Emma's stubborn determination can accomplish a great deal, but it will not change the Fairy's mind. Regina has learned from personal experience that there are few things more dangerous than a frustrated Emma. When in that state, the blond is liable to go far beyond reasonable lengths to accomplish her objectives. Regina can understand such behaviour, but the fact that the woman's energy is aimed at her, again, has it sitting uncomfortably in her gut.

Regina is also still not happy about children being exposed to a power whose costs are often as hidden as its mechanics. She'd enjoyed living in a world without magic. Magic had always been a weapon, first of her mother and then of Rumpelstiltskin. Wielding it had never brought her the happiness she'd desired, only an ever growing lust for more. She can understand why it's necessary to provide knowledge to those who might otherwise be magic's victims. It's also why she needs to be a foil to the Blue Fairy's perspective.

Fairies are frivolous, focusing on the good in the world and bestowing gifts willy-nilly to those they take a liking to. They never think to explain why those decisions are made, or at least not in their entirety. Fairies are motivated by agendas, making them little different from those who utilise dark magic. The blunt truth is what Fairy logic will not help the people of Storybrooke. With only the Blue Fairy's perspective, the town will be told to wish on stars and slave under hardship until the ‘powers that be’ decide to reward them.

_ You must control your own future _ , Regina straightens her dress shirt, determined to look her best even when she'll only be taking a walk to the Sheriff's office.  _ Avoiding the traps of magic and its users is essential to protecting that future, and the loved ones around you. _

Smiling at herself in the mirror, Regina puts aside her introspection. Helping the Saviour learn how to control her magic promises to be interesting. Hopefully the Charming's daughter is ready to handle her teaching methods. Chuckling, Regina grabs her keys and strides out into the cool autumn sunshine.

* * *

Red's high heels perched on a desk are the first sign of life she sees in the Station. The Sheriff's assistant is deeply engaged in her phone, only glancing out of the corner of her eye to identify Regina.

“Emma's out back,” she says robotically.

The ex-Mayor considers making a quip regarding use of the town's tax dollars, then remembers it's no longer her job to care. Strolling down a dim hallway, she exits the building and steps into a shady yard where Emma Swan is doing pull-ups. Either ends of the bar she's using are jammed into two solid crates, the assembly steady enough to support the Sheriff's rough handling.

“I'm sure the bar knows who's boss.” The comment comes out less condescending than Regina’d intended. She's actually rather impressed. The brunette has only given passing thought to how Emma keeps her slim figure when she consumes such unhealthy food. Apparently at least part of her physical regime involves rigorous upper body exercise. The Sheriff's dark tank top is glistening in the sun, her ponytail bobbing with each flex of her arm muscles. Regina only realises she's staring when Emma drops to the ground and turns to face her.

“Morning,” she gives Regina a tired smile, stretching out her arms.

“Indeed. It appears as though I should come to our sessions in yesterday's clothes.”

The sheepish look on Emma's face makes her regret the comment. Shifting from one foot to the other, Emma looks reluctant to broach what's on her mind so Regina takes a sweep of the area, noting the high fence, two waste bins and stacked debris in the far right corner. A good ten feet of space is free in the center, a gate to the street the only exit besides the door she just used. It's not ideal for magical training, but it will do for introductory lessons.

“Thanks for coming,” the words are spoken so suddenly Regina's attention snaps back to Emma.

“Shall we get started? I don't have all day.”

Emma bites back whatever response had been forthcoming before taking a step towards the brunette. “I should change-.”

“Don't bother,” Regina's raised hand stops her. “You will learn that magic is as connected to the body as the mind. Repay my generousity by not ruining your uniform.”

Swallowing, Emma nods, visibly steeling herself. “What are we going to do?”

“Well, that's up to you.” Shrugging out of her jacket, Regina reluctantly hangs it on the now unoccupied bar. “Can you conjure a flame?”

The blond opens a palm, focusing her green eyes on them. Confident that Emma is not likely to catch her, Regina lets herself smile. After over a minute of nothing, the Saviour lowers her shaking arm, defeated.

“What am I doing wrong?”

“You remembered to focus your anger in the visualisation of fire?”

“Yes.”

“Then the emotion is not strong enough, find another memory.”

Emma follows her directions, another minute passing before she once more peers up at Regina. Sighing, the ex-Mayor grabs her hand.

“What are you doing?” Emma's expression is caught between terrified and intrigued.

“Don't get so excited, Saviour, I'm just going to show you the memory I use.” Giving Emma no time to protest, Regina plunges them both into her mind. The scene she projects is when she realised Snow's betrayal had caused Daniel's death. It only takes thirty seconds to replay the event, but those seconds are infused with an emotional strength alien to most people's experience.

What mirth Regina had felt at Emma's expense is completely gone when they surface, leaving only disquieting numbness. Emma is panting as though she's just finished a particularly long run, her eyes wide with horror and understanding.

“You-.”

“Enough,” she drops Emma's hand, “Use that emotion.”

Almost instantly a fire is alive in Emma's palm. It isn't large, but it's a start. “Good,” Regina says, suddenly exhausted. “I want you to practice that. We will work on building the uses for your power at our next session.”

“Sunday?”

“As decided.”

Emma looks torn between saying something more and letting it go. Regina has retrieved her jacket and one hand is on the door into the Station when she finally speaks. “I... I appreciate what you did.”

The words soften some of her numbness, but all Regina can think about is the empty house and aimless day ahead of her.  _ The rest of my life _ . Without a word, Regina leaves the Saviour standing alone in the yard.

* * *

She takes a detour on her way home, hoping to walk herself out of the funk her session with Emma evoked. The trip uses an extra twenty minutes. She still has five hours before Henry's arrival when she steps over the threshold. To keep the spiraling torrent of anger and depression at bay, she works in her garden, cleans the downstairs, attempts to read, then gives up, gets an early start on dinner, goes to the grocery store to buy ingredients for one of Henry's favourite desserts, and stews about what she's going to say to him.

They haven't spoken any more about the magic lessons and he will certainly have questions about her training with Emma. After how much energy she's expended revealing one of her core memories, Regina almost wishes she could spend the evening alone, drowning her feelings in alcohol. Instead, she meets him at school, a smile on her face, and tries to ignore the cautious glances he gives her by asking about his day.

When they are standing in the entryway where Henry would normally part from her to head upstairs, he lingers. The expression on his face is so similar to the one his birth mother wore earlier that Regina's defenses are on high alert. Ultimately, he decides not to say what is on his mind, leaving her once more alone with her thoughts.

So lost does she feel that she almost answers Emma's phone call at quarter to six, deciding against it by virtue of the proximity to dinner. The training session hadn't even lasted half an hour yet Regina's whole composure was ruined. She's a private person, used to protecting herself by always maintaining strong personal shields. Sharing the memory she uses to fuel her magical strength had not seemed a big deal at the time. Now it feels like she's exposed and will never be able to truly look at Emma Swan the same way. She knows too much.

Strangely, Regina realises she trusts Emma, not in the conventional confidence of most girl friends, but in a shared understanding of allegiance. Sometimes it's easy to forget that the Saviour does not know what she was like in the Enchanted Forest. Sometimes, even Regina's almost successful at forgetting that monster had ever been her.

“Hey mom?” Henry inquires when they are halfway through their meal.

“Oh, yes Henry?” Shocked that she's drifted away during dinner with her son, Regina redoubles her focus.

“Are you alright?” His expression is so open and full of concern that Regina feels tears gathering in her eyes.

“Yes, yes of course I am.” Her attempt at smiling is only partially successful.

“Emma told me you started her training today.”

_ She did, did she? _ The voice in her head asks. Regina fights the jealous, angry beast threatening to poison her, digging her nails into a napkin under the table.

_ She's not trying to turn him against you,  _ she tells the voice.

“It's hard on you, isn't it?”

_ Lie or truth? _

“Yes. Yes it is Henry.” She replies.

He considers this for a moment, eyeing her thoughtfully. “I'm glad you're doing it. I understand why you don't want us to know about magic. Magic is dangerous, it's hurt so many people,” he nods sagely. “You're the best person who can help Emma control her powers. We all need to know how to protect ourselves.”

If she didn't know him so well, Regina might have thought he'd been prepped to say these words, but Henry has always been a bright boy capable of seeing past the masks people wear. “Thank you, Henry.” This time her smile is less forced. Suddenly her son is in her arms, hugging her somewhat awkwardly. “I love you, mom.”

Squeezing her eyes tight, Regina buries her face in his hair and holds him close. “I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters are uploaded once a week (Sunday).


	5. Magic's Source

_ ~Emma _

Emma is still pondering what occurred with Regina late Thursday evening. Every time she tries practising her magic the memory of Snow's betrayal flashes before her eyes, its intensity sending a wave of depressing feelings through her startled mind. She'd been aware of Regina's motivations for becoming the Evil Queen, but hearing about something is completely different from experiencing it. What little she knew had been gleaned from overheard discussions, conversations with Mary Margaret, and Henry's book.

The lengths to which Regina'd gone for revenge had been extreme, but she'd been goaded into them along the way, first by someone who should have loved her and then by the man who'd taught her magic. Both had been pursuing their own agendas, manipulating Regina's feelings to accomplish their desires. And Regina's feelings were powerful. If she regularly felt even a quarter of the emotion Emma'd been exposed to in that memory, it was no wonder the woman kept people at arm's length. Or moat's length.

Rolling onto her stomach, Emma buries her face in her pillow. What Regina had shown her was important, but more than the substance was the fact that she'd opened herself - something that, to Emma's knowledge, she's never done willingly with anyone else. The weight of responsibility that comes with such trust is daunting and something the Emma of nearly three years ago would have fled. 

It is still terrifying, but far more complex than that one description can encompass. Maintaining Regina's privacy is a weight that comes coupled with... Happiness is too strong a word. Still, Emma feels good that Regina willingly shared such an intimate part of herself. It speaks volumes about how the ex-Mayor sees Emma, making the blond more confident about the quality of their friendship.

Henry texted not long before Emma retired for the evening, assuring her that Regina was alright. His assurance, while lacking the depth of analysis someone older might have been able to impart, still gave her confidence that the emotional void into which Regina'd retreated at the end of their training was not going to cause lasting damage. Henry knows his mom and if anyone can help her remember she's loved it's him.

Occasions such as this bring into stark relief the strength it must take for Regina to put herself out there - make herself vulnerable to prove her devotion to Henry. Emma has difficulty fathoming such intensity, and she has heroes for parents! Then again, intensity of feeling is what makes villains so powerful - at least in the stories she's been exposed to.

The darkness Regina fights every day is one of the reasons Emma wishes her own magic would disappear. If negative emotions give magic its strength, then she wants nothing to do with it.

_Yet, I do not have a choice._ It's better to master the evil within then leave it to fester unchecked. _Still..._ _perhaps other emotions can conjure the necessary strength of feeling._ After all, everyone claims Regina has 'dark magic' while she has 'light'. Is the difference in the magic's intent? If so, then Regina's teachers are to blame for her 'dark' magic.

Those teachers instructed her to use negative emotions, forcing her to build them at the expense of more positive associations. The longer Emma contemplates the notion, the more sense it makes. Her own experiences have proven that dwelling on negative feelings keep you bitter and depressed. The Regina that surfaced from that memory fits those descriptions. Perhaps her own magic is only light-based because she has not tainted it with malicious intent. If Regina utilises the same methods Rumpelstiltskin did to instruct her, it won't be for long.

Sitting up in bed, Emma holds out her right hand and concentrates on a positive memory. Unfortunately, she does not have a wealth of such to draw from. The memory has to be equal in strength to Regina's and she has to hold the visualisation of fire while maintaining the feeling. At first she struggles to locate a memory that will work, Emma's thoughts wandering to her parents. But her relationship with them is not all sunshine and roses.

_ Of course _ , she thinks as an image of Henry enters her mind,  _ but which memory? _

They've built many good ones together, yet few conjure the intensity of feeling she needs. Emma's search leads her to their last adventure. She'd been terrified of losing him and would have done anything to save her son. 

_ There!  _ For a second she'd felt the strength she's looking for. Returning to the memory of when she'd lit the candle in the forest of Pan's shadow, Emma pinpoints the feeling by coupling it with her memory of waking Henry from the sleeping curse.  _ A burst of magic with its source in True Love. _

Excitement coursing through her veins, Emma holds the feeling and tries to visualise a flame. The two acts fight each other, causing sweat to break out on Emma's body, exhaustion tugging on the edges of her mind. 

_ No! I know it can work! _ Letting the feeling guide her thoughts, the flame morphs into a ball of light, its warmth filling her with airy contentment and a sense of security.

Opening her eyes, Emma nearly cries out when she realises the ball of light is in her hand, banishing all darkness from the loft. 

_ I did it! _ Awed, she stares at the manifestation, momentarily forgetting to hold the feeling in her mind. When the light begins to dim, she redoubles her efforts and the light intensifies once more.

Curious to see how much she can manipulate her creation, Emma cautiously rolls it from the palm of her right hand to her left. After a few tries she manages it without altering the light's strength. Giddy, Emma cups the light in both, lowers them, then tosses the ball into the air. It rises a foot, hovers, then settles comfortably back in her hands.

As much as she wants to keep experimenting, Emma knows her body has worked enough for one day. Reluctantly, she lets the feeling of love fade, its manifestation disappearing. Once more in a dark room, Emma looks around to reorient herself. Everything around her is the same - yet doesn't seem to be.

_ I've changed _ , she realises, smiling down at her hands,  _ I can now perform magic on my own terms _ . Laying back on the bed, Emma instantly falls asleep, cradled by the lingering warmth of her light.

* * *

Mary Margaret may not have raised her, but the woman is as perceptive as a stereotypical mother. Emma's feet have barely touched the hardwood of the apartment's main floor when she says: “Someone's in a good mood.”

Letting a smile cross her face, Emma simply strides over to the cereal cupboard. Today is one deserving of Fruit Loops!

“Feel like sharing?” Mary Margaret is obviously itching to know what has caused the retreat of Emma's seriousness from the previous day.

As much as the blond wants to open her palm and show off the little ball of light, she's decided to share her accomplishment with Regina first. “It's Friday.”

Her mother does not look convinced, but lets the subject drop when David wraps his arms around her.

“Good morning Snow,” placing a kiss on her cheek he turns to grin at Emma. “Good morning Sunshine.”

His love and pride is so raw a blush rises to Emma's cheeks. Focusing on her breakfast, the blond listens to her parents' affectionate banter as they prepare eggs and toast. Such openness between them is still uncomfortable for her, but Emma is growing to appreciate their support. There is no doubt this couple will fight to the death for their family. Such devotion is stunning to witness, particularly for a woman who's had to rely on only herself nearly all her life.

“Will Regina be joining us for dinner tonight?” Mary Margaret's inquiry snaps Emma out of her introspection.

“Oh, uh, I don't know.”

_ Yeah, Friday is Granny's night, _ she acknowledges internally. Regina does not always attend their gathering, but her presence is the norm rather than the exception. Most of the time Mary Margaret and David even seem to enjoy her company, although the same cannot be said for Regina. How much of her distaste for the Charmings is ingrained and how much is real Emma can't always tell, but Regina always makes a point of being cordial, even when kicking figurative ass through verbal sparring.

At first the challenging debates and snarky remarks had concerned Emma, knowing how easily such confrontations can spiral into ugly arguments. When they did not, she gradually began enjoying the verbal matches. Eventually, they were the highlight of the shared dinners.

“I suppose we'll find out,” David sets himself and his wife a place to eat. “We'll see you there?”

“At six,” Emma smiles, passing her dirty bowl to him. “I'm going to head out. See you then.”

“Have a good day!” Her mother and father speak in tandem, the couple sharing an amused smile as Emma drapes her jacket over her arm and leaves the apartment.

* * *

The office is quiet without Ruby's animated chatter. Emma's assistant works part time at the Station and Granny's, enjoying the difference between each occupation. Storybrooke does not require an extensive police force, for which Emma is glad, but it also means the job can be tedious. David will be on patrol today leaving her alone in the Station with a moderate amount of paperwork. It honestly  is a moderate amount, but seems like a mountain to a Sheriff who is not in the mood to tackle it.

_ When am I ever in the mood?  _ Chuckling to herself, Emma glances at the clock then pulls the first file towards her. A report Ruby compiled over a week ago on vandalism in the park. That's where she'd gone after meeting with Mother Sup-  _ Blue - _ who'd refused to share teaching time with Regina. It's also where Neal had suggested Regina start her own lessons, an idea Emma has yet to share with the ex-Mayor. Their training session had not presented an opportunity.

Thoughts of her magic prompt Emma to extend her right hand and focus on creating the ball of light. It takes some effort, but eventually the happy little entity is hovering over her palm. An embodiment of purity. Happy smile on her face, Emma continues experimenting with her creation. Making the light float out of her reach proves the most challenging exercise since it requires believing the light is being supported by the air around it rather than her hands.

After nearly two hours Emma is tired, but has levitated the ball five feet away from herself without sacrificing the intensity of its light. With a deep sense of satisfaction, she lets the ball dissipate and is pulling out a bag of chips when the office phone rings. David's voice meets her ear.

“Hey Emma, I think you should get down to the theatre.”

“Theatre?” Emma hears a crash in the background. “David, what's going on?”

“Hook and Neal, I'll explain more when you get here.”

All the satisfaction Emma had been feeling evaporates, leaving only fatigue. Apparently, those two not being at each other's throats for a whole week had been too much to hope for. “I'll be right there.”

* * *

Two bruised men are sitting in the theatre manager's office when she arrives. David is monitoring them with a stern, yet slightly amused expression. Killian and Neal exchange dirty looks until she makes her presence known. Upon discovering that the fight broke out over a ping pong game, she verbally tears into them for disturbing the peace. Everyone present is aware that the tension between the men is routed deeper than a petty squabble.

Both look sufficiently sheepish when she's finished her tirade, quietly apologising for their actions. Although each is showing a desire for private conversation she leaves David in charge of escorting them home. At first, Emma intends on heading to the Station, then changes course and walks down a side alley. The detour takes her to a small grove of trees just behind the florist's. She needs to get somewhere that'll help soothe her pounding headache and this place is the closest.

The two men's rivalry began in Neverland and remained upon their return to Storybrooke. Both seem oblivious or unwilling to see her disinterest in either of them as a romantic partner. Despite the complications his presence brings her, Emma's glad that Neal's in Henry's life. The man appears to be taking his newly discovered role of father seriously. Even Regina can only complain about the food he feeds Henry. Any other faults she finds with him are linked to his past actions, not his present.

As for Neal and her, Emma has no desire to rekindle the flame that had existed between them. He'd broken her heart and left her existance dark and empty. His abandonment hardened her against the world - and herself. If Neal had chosen her, she might have kept Henry. Acquaintances she can handle, maybe even casual friends, but Emma has firmly closed the chapter on their romance.

Inhaling deeply, Emma lets the smell of pine calm her angry, roiling feelings. Then there's Hook – Killian. He's the type of fellow she's attracted to: suave, confident, trouble-seeking, handsome... in a biker sort of way. The comparison makes her laugh, a flicker of warmth returning to her awareness. Under other circumstances they may have successfully hit it off, but his tendency to challenge Neal for her at every opportunity is not an appealing trait.

She hasn't had to witness the start of every fight to know Killian is the instigator. Neal is more respectable than he'd been in their youth, but even then he'd not been possessive. He is also not a fighter, preferring to talk his way out of difficult situations. Someone like Killian is not who she wants in her new life.

“And that eyeliner,” Emma's words are followed by another, freer, laugh. What had Regina called him? Captain Guyliner. She smiles. “That was a good one.”

Multi-coloured leaves dance around Emma, her mood significantly improved by the walk.  _ I cannot stop them from being idiots. _ At least, for better or worse, the townspeople find the disturbances they cause more amusing than annoying. Although how long that will last if they continue causing scenes and damaging property...

Pushing those thoughts aside, Emma turns her feet toward the Station, her stomach stating its need for sustenance. She's on the doorstep when her phone rings. “Sheriff Swan.”

“Ah, Emma, I'm glad you're still not tied up with Bagelfire and Captain Leather.”

“Funny Ruby. Is this a work or social call?”

“Work I'm afraid. Leroy seems to have gotten too much into the drink.”

Emma lets out an exasperated noise. “It's not even noon!”

“Hasn't stopped him yet.”

She raises a hand to massage her temples. “At Granny's?”

“Yep.”

“I'll be right there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters are uploaded once a week (Sunday).


	6. The Diner

_ ~Regina _

Unlike Wednesday and Thursday, the last workday of the week passes in a swift blur for Regina. The majority of it is spent in her vault examining magical texts, noting spells, training strategies and anecdotes that will assist her with teaching the Saviour. Miraculously, Henry's confidence did wonders stabilising her emotions after Emma's first session.

Regina will never be comfortable sharing such intimate portions of herself, but the occasions when she needs to are going to be rare. The Saviour might need a personal example once in a while to understand the less tangible concepts, but, so long as Emma masters drawing energy from her emotions, Regina does not see the need to delve further into her own psyche.

As she pulls up outside the school, Regina undergoes the seventh iteration of a debate with herself as to whether training Emma is a ludicrous waste of time. The logic behind the endeavour is sound - Emma needs to know how to control her magic - but is it really necessary that she be Emma's teacher? It supports their efforts to rebuild Regina's reputation in the town. A united front of Saviour and ex-Evil Queen is sure to make people think twice about her motivations.

What Emma might think of her now that she's seen that memory... is yet to be discovered. Regina's received almost every emotion in Emma's repertoire since they met, but the one she dislikes the most is pity.

Yes, her mother had been a poor maternal figure. Yes, her first love had been murdered in front of her eyes. Yes, she'd had a father unable to protect her. Yes, the Dark One had manipulated her into performing terrible acts but, ultimately, she'd committed those acts of her own volition. For better or worse, Regina's choices have been her own. She can't stand being pitied. Pity is for weak individuals incapable of controlling their lives. Regina Mills is many things, but she is not weak.

“Hey Mom!” Henry says as he slides into the seat beside her.

“Hello Henry, how was school?” Shifting the car into drive, Regina turns onto the main street and heads in the direction of home.

“Good, I got perfect on my report!”

The way his eyes glow when he speaks about writing never fails to warm her heart. Despite his origins, Henry is definitely the best thing that has ever happened to her.

“And algebra?” She inquires.

The transition his face goes through is far more subtle than any she's ever witnessed on Emma, but Regina always picks up on it. She is, after all, an expert at wearing masks.

Squeezing his shoulder, she says, “You'll get better. How about we take a look at some problems tomorrow?”

Knowing that arguing is only going to prolong the inevitable, Henry grudgingly agrees.

* * *

Snow and Charming are settling into a booth when she enters the Diner behind Henry. Their appointed dinner time is 6pm, but the arrival times are less concrete. The Charmings, living only a block from Granny's, are generally there ahead of Regina and Henry, who are always five minutes ahead of the hour. Emma's arrival is the wild card. If she'd been with her parents that afternoon their arrivals coincide. Normally, she’s between five to ten minutes late, the range of reasons - or excuses - an ever unfolding saga.

Today, she appears at seven after the hour, just as the rest of the group is setting down their menus to order. Regina doesn't really care what struggles Emma faces enforcing the law so long as it poses no risk to Henry, but given their previous encounter, she observes the blond with particular interest on this occasion. Not expecting Emma's gaze to search her out before her parents or son, Regina is caught in the act.

“Hey,” Emma says, her smile tired but genuine. Since she’s still looking at Regina the brunette feels exposed by the openness of the expression, quickly turning her head away while the rest of the table greets Emma.

The Sheriff is pulled into elaborating on the events of her day but Regina, focused on the menu in front of her, cannot tell if her abrupt reaction bothered Emma. Not that it matters if it did, Regina shouldn't have to worry about upsetting the Saviour. She is beloved by the town and can go running to her perfect parents when things get rough.

Shaking her head, Regina tries to dislodge the poisonous thoughts. Why is she feeling this way? Is it because of the memory she shared? Her self-analysis is interrupted by Red's appearance, the waitress taking their orders with a less enthusiastic smile than usual.

“Heard it was a rough day in the establishment,” Charming says good-naturedly.

“You could say that.” The woman responds. “Leroy's gotten better about the drinking, but he had a rough night and hit the escapism a bit too hard.”

“Was he any trouble?” Charming turns his attention to Emma who is drinking some of Henry's soda.

“Nothing I couldn't handle. I would have called for back-up if I'd needed it.”

“So he came quietly?” Charming is obviously not convinced.

“Does he ever?” Red asks with a small grin.

“I handled it, he's sobering up at the Station,” Emma states, her tone hard.

Regina notes a subtle twitch of Snow's body and imagines that the woman has given Charming a firm nudge. The man stops whatever words had been about to leave his mouth. As Red leaves with their orders, he turns toward her instead.

“Regina,” a smile is plastered on his face, “have you given any thought to how you'll help Emma with her magic?”

Now this is interesting. Apparently Emma has not told her parents that they've already had a training session. The fact that she's kept it from them makes Regina conflicted. Perhaps the Saviour is not as comfortable with Snow and Charming after all. Perhaps she’s ashamed of her magic or progress, but Regina suspects the blond's motivations to have entirely different roots.

“I have,” setting the drink menu down in one smooth movement, she entwines her fingers on the table before her, deliberately avoiding looking at Emma. “Establishing the fundamentals is where we'll begin.”

“Like fireballs?” Henry asks enthusiastically.

The flinch this comment elicits from Snow nearly breaks Regina's stony facade. While part of her always enjoys making the woman squirm, Regina is in no mood for prolonged exchanges.

“Smaller,” she replies, gracing Henry with a smile, “the basics of magic involve mastering control of the emotions that fuel it. Conjuring and manipulating a flame is the safest introduction.”

“Like what Emma did with the coconut in Neverland?” Charming inquires.

Inclining her head, Regina chances a look at the Saviour. The blond is listening intently, feigning interest in her phone. “From there you expand manipulation to the external environment. Always keeping in mind that every act of magic comes at a price to yourself.” Her tone seems to have successfully conveyed that the topic is over. Henry may have persisted in questioning her if the food's arrival hadn't distracted him from the rest of reality.

As is par for the course, the Charming family steers the conversation, Snow and Charming asking Henry about school. They normally encourage Emma to share details about her day as well, but the tension between the Sheriff and her deputy/father has forbidden that topic. Regina's heard rumours of another fight involving the woman's two would-be suitors and suspects this is part of the conflict between father and daughter.

As the meal progresses it becomes impossible for Regina to ignore Emma's constant glances. At first they are annoying since she’s unable to enjoy her bruschetta while her attention is constantly being directed to the Saviour. When they have not let up after twenty minutes Regina is ready to march from the diner, leaving the Charmings to pick up her bill.

Gliding to her feet, intending to escape to the washroom for a few moments of peace, her anger flares when she sees that Emma has stood with her.

“Where are you going?” Snow asks her daughter.

“Bathroom,” Emma replies, eyes avoiding Regina as she extracts herself from the booth.

At Henry's glance Regina nods in the same general direction and he returns to his conversation with Charming. Emma's posture is determined – a sign that Regina is probably not going to enjoy this conversation. Part of her acknowledges that these negative feelings should not be directed at Emma, yet Regina could no more have prevented them then stopped a cyclone.

“Hey, mind if we talk?” Emma asks when they’re outside the women's washroom.

“Yes,” crossing her arms over her chest, Regina observes the nervous excitement barely hidden beneath Emma's cloak of confidence. The protective wall around her feelings strengthens in the face of potentially unpleasant revelations.

Emma seems torn between several competing responses, then says, “I have something to show you.”

Without responding Regina follows the blond out the back door of the diner and into a small alley. A single flood light illuminates the dank space, cans of refuse lining one side and broken furniture on the other. Regina turns her disgusted face on Emma, not at all pleased at the Saviour's choice of meeting spot. Seeing Emma squirm gives her a small measure of satisfaction.

“Look,” again Emma considers her words, then extends a hand instead.

The gesture momentarily confuses her, until Regina recognises the pinched look of concentration. She’s preparing a scathing retort involving wasting her time when a soft light appears in Emma's outstretched hand. As she watches, the brightness intensifies until it outshines the overhead light and she can no longer look directly at it.

Sensing eyes on her, Regina meets the Saviour's gaze, schooling her features into a neutral expression. Emma is waiting for a reaction and Regina has no intention of giving her the satisfaction - especially when she isn't sure what she’s feeling. “Congratulations, you will no longer have to worry about monsters under your bed.”

“Can you do this?” Emma is disappointed but in a blunted way, as though she expected this.

“Of course.” Thrusting her own hand out beside Emma's, a flame immediately erupts, its intensity somehow pale against Emma's pure white luminescence.

“I mean -.”

“I know what you mean.” Regina tries to call up a light similar to the blond's, but stops when the effort required threatens to reveal itself. Letting the fire dissipate, she replies, “I prefer a flame, it is more multi-purpose.”

“Regina,” Emma sounds exasperated and a little sad. The light fades from her hand. “I appreciate what you did for me at our lesson. Showing me those memories can't have been easy – stop sneering at me!”

Anger is a reaction Regina feels far more capable of handling.  _ Just like the good old days, _ she thinks humourlessly.

“Bothers you, doesn't it? That you're not immediately perfect at something.” Regina can see that she's hit a nerve, but instead of going in for the kill as she used to, she makes an attempt to soften her stance. Despite all the reasons why she shouldn't, she likes Emma and doesn’t really want to fight – at least not in a way that might permanently ruin their friendship.

“I tried what you taught me but with... with,” Emma's face contorts in an amusing way.

Regina thinks about helping her then decides it’s more enjoyable to watch the Saviour fumble. “Spit it out, Ms. Swan.”

“Love,” she looks uncomfortable with the word. Regina can understand that feeling.

“And instead of fire you get a little ball of light?”

Emma nods, her doe-like eyes focused on Regina. The brunette continues speaking to overcome her sudden discomfort. “It's hardly surprising – you're the product of True Love. Those... feelings would be more natural for you.”

“Despite my past?”

“You mean the unpleasantness of your upbringing?” Shifting her weight, Regina tucks her hands into her pockets. “Nurture over nature is a debate engaged in by psychologists. All I can say is that True Love is powerful. As a product of it your magic has a great deal of potential.”

“But magic is linked to emotion?”

“Inextricably.” Regina has seen that look on Emma Swan enough to recognise its implications. The woman has gotten it into her head that someone needs help and she is going to provide it, no matter the cost. Unfortunately, Regina suspects that, in this case, those altruistic intentions are aimed at herself.

“Then I know you could use it too – love I mean, to conjure magic. Instead of anger.”

“I'm not a nice person, Ms. Swan.” Regain states. “There are times when I'm going to be less likeable than others.”

“But using anger to fuel your magic affects you. Makes you – cold.”

“Very astute. Yes, losing the man you love, being forced into an arranged marriage and performing countless acts of evil will have that effect.” Regina's anger has returned full force. How dare the Saviour have the audacity to think she can change her! Regina has had more than enough of people trying to 'help' her. People who pretended they knew what was best for her.

Emma remains silent, the blond uncharacteristically contemplative. Regina's mind is spinning elaborate plots that the Saviour might be planning to use against her when Emma finally speaks. “I don't want to change you. You have every right to be angry – I just... don't like to see you so unhappy.”

The honesty melts some of Regina's anger, bone-aching weariness taking its place. Clicking the heel of her left shoe against the pavement, she replies. “Anger is part of who I am. I have to live with it.”

“But you have so much... there's so much more to you,” Emma's expression is one of vulnerability, nameless emotions shifting just behind her eyes.

Although she cannot identify them, Regina feels comforted. Emma is not pitying her, she’s truly concerned. 

_ Like a real friend, _ Regina thinks before shelving the notion.

Stepping closer, Regina places a hand on Emma's shoulder and gives it a firm squeeze. “I appreciate your faith. It's not easy but I'm trying to remake myself. For Henry-.” 

_ For myself _ , she adds internally. 

“But that doesn't mean I can change the laws of magic. If love provides you with the intensity of emotion you need to work magic then use it. Anger has, and always will be, my greatest strength.”

Emma nods, although she does not appear wholly convinced. “I suppose we should get back.”

“Yes. Your parents might get the notion that the plumbing has done you some harm and destroy Granny's infrastructure.”

The blond's smile is relieved and happy. “As if you'd care.”

Shrugging, Regina turns away to conceal her own pleasure. As they return to the table Regina can't help marvelling at the strange twists her life has taken. Generally, she makes a point of keeping her past at arms length, only revisiting it for some functional purpose, never to ruminate on the details. 

Her initial attempt at teaching Emma Swan magic without the urgency of some threat hanging over their heads has forced her into a new relationship with those memories – one that brings into focus their effect on who she is. She's harnessed the world's cruelty for her own purposes, accepting that only it can make her strong enough for revenge.

As she sits at a slightly crooked table in a booth that smells of fries and ketchup, a generation of Charmings around her, Regina realises that revenge had only been a mask concealing what she truly wanted. Acceptance, support, companionship, love – all those cliché feelings that can never be fully defined, yet mean the difference between fulfillment and emptiness.

Those who should have offered it had manipulated her to suit their desires, painting it as weakness. Claiming self-preservation as the only worthy prize. The Evil Queen had won, she'd cast her curse. It had been revenge and it had not filled the hole in her heart. 

Even now, when she’s among those who could perhaps extend the connection of 'family' to include her, Regina feels the lack of completion. She’s not a fool, no one ever feels completely happy with their life, but this goes beyond that. She's always felt deeply, it's what makes her magic so powerful, but the curse stripped the core of that strength away. She'd sought out a child in the hopes that motherhood would provide her life with meaning, but it had never fully worked.

Maleficent had been right. She’ll never be a full person again. Her capacity to use love as a strength disappeared when she condemned hundreds of people to a world without magic. The only happiness she can have now will be a pale specter of the real thing. 

_ But it is better than nothing.  _

As Regina tucks an arm around a yawning Henry on their way to the car, she draws comfort from their closeness, breathing in the cool night air and deciding that she can live with a half life. So long as her son loves her, whatever she’s allowed to feel is enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters are uploaded once a week (Sunday).


	7. Threads of Magic

_~Emma_   
  
  


“Swan.”

The voice pulls Emma from a routine traffic violation report, a distraction she might have been grateful for if it had come from anyone other than either of the two men she has no desire to see. Crossing her arms over her chest, Emma graces him with her most sour expression. “Has someone hijacked the Jolly Roger?”

Sighing, Killian takes a step further into the office, his leather-clad form creaking slightly with every move. “Can we talk, love?”

The look of meek honesty is so strange on his face Emma almost smiles. Since doing so might give him the wrong impression, however, she stifles the reaction. “I don't see what there is to talk about.”

The pirate moves into the doorway of the cubicle she's been working in, Emma doing her best to project the aura of a Sheriff in her domain. “I thought we should talk about what happened in Neverland.”

“We rescued Henry from an egocentric child with a demonic shadow. Enough said.” Of course Emma knows exactly what he's referring to. That kiss. She likes to believe she's outgrown her tendency for impulsiveness... and then she does something like that. He'd been trying so hard for her. Thinking things through was not one of his strengths, but his presence had contributed to their successful retrieval of Henry and she was grateful for that. His bad boy look and sincerity had gotten the better of her and in that moment she'd given him false hope. Guilt made relationships so much more difficult.

“Killian,” standing, Emma moves around the desk so they're face-to-face. Such openness still requires a great deal of effort, but Emma thinks she's making progress overcoming her defense mechanisms. “I'll be forever grateful to you for helping us get Henry back.”

“But,” he interjects with a trace of hardness in his voice. The response puts her on edge.

“I am not interested in a relationship.”

“So that kiss was nothing.” His silver hook glints as he runs his hand over it, an action Emma is not sure how to interpret.

“It did not mean what you're reading into it.”

His chuckle is disconcerting. “You might want to find a different way of expressing yourself, Swan,” Killian takes a step back, his face darkening, “kissing lends itself to certain implications.”

“Killian, I'm sorry.” The retreating figure gives no indication he's heard her final words.

Slamming her fist into the desk, Emma tugs at her hair and paces the office. Now she definitely doesn't feel like doing paperwork. There are still three hours in her afternoon shift. David is with Henry at the stables and Ruby will be assisting Granny set-up for the evening rush. Not that Emma really wants company. She'd rather blow off work in favour of a long jog but since she's now in a position of responsibility she cannot just run off.

 _Adulthood sucks,_ she thinks humourlessly, mind seeking out the memory of her little ball of light.

Despite how recently she'd discovered it, the entity has become a symbol of control for her, embodying the stability and strength she wishes could always be at her disposal. Just that morning she'd managed to successfully get her light to float completely around her head, a feat that had elicited an embarrassingly child-like feeling of wonder. Emma has still not shown it to anyone besides Regina. She hasn't even mentioned their lesson yet, a fact she is thankful Regina picked up on at yesterday's dinner.

Perhaps she should feel comfortable sharing the more fantastical elements of herself with her parents. They are Snow White and Prince Charming after all, but Emma does not like uncertainty. She wants to have some measure of control over and knowledge of her powers before having heart-to-heart chats about them. Especially after her conversation with Regina.

Snippets of the exchange have filtered through her thoughts all morning. Burying herself in paperwork had enabled the blond to forget how messed up her life is, at least for the hour and a half before Killian's arrival had brought it all rushing back.

The demanding ring of her office phone brings Emma's mind back to the present. She hastily picks up the receiver and assumes her most composed, no-nonsense voice. “Police Station, Sheriff Swan speaking.”

“Good day, Miss Swan.”

Even through the phone Mr. Gold's tone sends unsettling shivers down her spine. “Gold, how can I help?”

“Oh, I don't mean to be a bother, I just wanted to see if you needed help.”

“Why would I need help?” Instantly suspicious, Emma scans her surroundings, the hand not holding the phone positioned over her holster.

“I was just passing by and happened to notice a rather disgruntled pirate leaving the Station. As I understand you are unaccompanied I wanted to ensure that you were not in any distress.”

“Why would you b – wait, did Neal tell you to call?”

“I have no idea why you'd make such an assumption.”

“Gold, we both know you really have no interest in my personal well-being.”

“You wound me, Miss Swan. You are the mother of my grandchild, of course I care about what happens to you.”

 _Sly fox_ , Emma thinks, rolling her eyes. During their exchange she'd crossed to the window and is now peering through the blinds to the street beyond. An elderly couple is walking their dog but the street is otherwise deserted.

“Miss Swan?”

“Thank you for your concern, Mr. Gold, but I am quite capable of taking care of myself. I would appreciate it if you would also pass that message on to your son.”

“Not a problem, dearie.”

The line goes dead a second later and Emma places the phone back in its cradle. Having taken several deep breaths she tries to summon the necessary feelings to create her ball of light. When her roiling emotions refuse to cooperate she swears and grabs her jacket. The ice cream parlour is only a couple of blocks down and Emma feels she definitely deserves an ice cream.  
  


* * *

  
Almost twenty-four hours later Emma is trudging through the cemetery, a light rain sliding off her mostly water-resistant jacket. Why is she not surprised that Regina's choice of teaching location would be somewhere creepy? Perhaps she'd even cast a spell to conjure rain for desired effect. Thankfully, Emma can discount that possibility. Regina is far too calculated to waste magic on something so trivial. No, it is far more Regina's style to dress to intimidate than rely on atmosphere.

Spotting said woman Emma wipes the wry smile from her face, unsure what mood she'll find the ex-Mayor in. Regina is waiting beside the entrance to her vault, arms crossed over her chest, and, if her expression is any indication, no more pleased with the weather than Emma. Even drenched, Regina manages to appear composed and in control, her posture, flattering black coat, and high-heeled boots radiating power.

 _And not of the magical sort,_ Emma muses.

“Hey Regina.”

The other woman merely inclines her head before opening the door of the vault. Although Emma is not really comfortable entering she swallows her reservations and follows Regina. The heavy door shuts with finality behind them as they descend the stairs beneath Henry Senior's memorial, the blond taking in the strange surroundings.

The brunette's hideaway feels like it doesn't belong in the world above. Even before magic's restoration it had possessed an otherworldly presence, part unsettling and part awe-inspiring. The sense is strongest inside, yet even outside the blond experiences it. If Emma had needed to describe it to someone 'potential' might have been the most appropriate word.

Down among the strange objects, outlandish outfits, and canisters of ingredients, it feels like anything is possible. That feeling is edged with darkness, more prominently in certain places. As they move into what looks like a workroom Emma spots a wall of containers with heart-shaped engravings, some illuminated, some dark.

Shivering, she turns to see Regina watching her, a knowing smile on the brunette's face. A decidedly unsettling yet attractive smile. If there is anything Emma's discovered about Regina in their time together it's that the woman, like her vault, is a dichotomy – simultaneously fearsome and alluring, powerful and vulnerable, passionate and conniving. Yes, passionate was a description that fit Regina Mills perfectly.

“Like what you see?” She asks in a silky voice, obviously intending to suggest more than their surroundings.

Taking a breath to steady herself, Emma replies. “It's actually rather creepy.”

“Well aren't you a lady charmer.”

For a split second Emma thinks Regina's miffed then her rational brain sweeps aside the crazy notion. “I've never been good with either-.” Emma shuts her mouth with a quick snap but she's already revealed more than she'd meant to. Today is off to a great start. If she hadn't been watching Regina's expression so closely she might have missed the surprise that flickers over the brunette's face before neutrality covers its traces.

“Focus, Saviour. This is not a romantic rendezvous. This is work.”

Resisting the urge to squirm, Emma nods and takes a step closer to the other woman. “What are we doing today?”

“First off, you are showing me everything you can do with that firefly of yours.”

“Fire-oh!” Almost immediately the ball of light is in Emma's hand. Her prowess at drawing forth a happy memory makes the spectre comparable in size to a baseball at inception. Having glanced at Regina, Emma increases the intensity of the light then begins shifting the ball from one hand to another. After a couple of exchanges she gives the magic a light 'push' and it floats up to hover then circle her head.

When these actions fail to get a response from her teacher, Emma decides to try something new. With more force than intended, the ball launches itself at Regina. Fearing that the brunette will see her action as aggressive, Emma wills the ball to disappear. It obeys, but in a more spectacular fashion than she expects. The spectre explodes into thousands of tiny shimmering lights like a silent sparkler.

Regina coolly watches the lights fade around her before fixing her gaze on Emma. Finally, the brunette says. “I'm surprised there were no unicorns.”

The emotionless delivery chases away the happy glow Emma's magic had elicited, annoyance rushing to take its place. “I didn't mean to make it explode over your head!”

“That was the most impressive part,” Regina replies without missing a beat, “and even it was pathetic.” Bending over a wooden chest, Regina pulls a book and several scrolls from its depths, ignoring Emma's scowl as she continues. “You have displayed a rudimentary understanding of control, linked both to physical action and incorporeal possibility. The latter is particularly promising since someone as rooted in the rational world as you are would have trouble fathoming the less logical aspects of magic.”

 _I guess that's as close to a complement as I'm going to get_ , Emma muses.

“Today's lesson will work on building your skills in this area.” Placing the two scrolls on top of a table, Regina holds open the book with one hand, the other drawing an invisible pattern in the air. Emma's annoyance fades as she watches Regina work. She's almost forgotten her nervousness, deriving a sort of calm from watching the other woman - until said woman turns piercing eyes on her and Emma's heart accelerates.

“Do you know what I did, Miss Swan?”

 _How could I_ , she wants to reply but even in her thoughts the words lack any bite. Instead, she shakes her head.

“I activated wards throughout my vault. The wards are composed of interwoven spells, each adding an aspect to the whole. One thread senses an intruder's presence, another reacts to the forest, activating deeper layers. Among other things, the wards prevent the intruder from leaving and let me know that there's been a disturbance.

Wards are the epitome of incorporeal magic. Once set, they are designed to be undetectable and impossible to decipher. Some spells help make ward threads visible but a truly skilled magic-user will set layers in the ward to disorient such spells.

“You are going to learn how to make these ward-threads visible. This will help you understand the subtle magic that now exists in Storybrooke. Do you understand?”

“I believe so,” Emma replies. “What do I need to do?”

Regina gestures for Emma to approach which she does, closely observing her teacher. Now shoulder-to-shoulder, Emma listens to the brunette's instructions then imitates her actions. Their shared magic-weaving takes Emma's mind back to Neverland when she first began expanding her abilities. 

Regina'd been more exasperated with her then, desperate to save Henry from Mr. Gold's selfish father. She's had chances since then to dwell on the experience, although Emma is still not sure how to describe it. An adrenaline rush, mixed with a sense of connection that is both disconcerting and comforting to someone who's spent most of her life alone. Since destroying the trigger in the mines the sensation has become less intense but still pervades any magic she performs with Regina.

After several complicated hand gestures Emma knows she'll never be able to remember, a tapestry appears in the air around her. For a moment, her mind rebels at the sudden arrival of floating, multi-coloured light strings and they blink out of sight, but believing in strange phenomenon is almost second nature to her now so the lights are soon an intense presence wrapping her in their glow.

“What do you see? Regina's voice sounds softer but Emma is so caught up in the wards around them that she may have misheard the tone.

“Thousands of coloured lights, some are brighter than others. They weave around each other, thicker in certain places, like here -,” she indicates a knot of largely green and blue threads. “And here,” she turns toward the doorway to a collection of blue, red, and orange threads.

“Those are what would prevent you from leaving this room. Each section of the vault has its own version. The green and blue knot is the communication spell linking me to my vault.”

“Didn't you say that I shouldn't trust what this spell shows?”

“I said that aspects can be added to wards to disorient this spell. That doesn't mean it's completely useless.”

Emma raises an incredulous eyebrow which Regina ignores. As if the blond has dragged the information from her, the brunette reluctantly continues. “Clues can be derived from the Reveal spell. Can you see the yellow core running through the orange thread over the door?”

After extended squinting Emma nods.

“That's the spell's true design, the orange is a diversion. Orange threads represent the boundary that traps intruders. The first step in breaking wards is to dismantle the trap and alarm threads, thereby giving an intruder more time to decipher the rest.”

Emma resists the urge to tune out Regina's words. The lesson so far has been interesting in a distant sort of way, like space travel, but she knows an action item is hidden among the theory. Confident that Regina is not a teacher partial to repeating herself, Emma keeps herself focused on the explanations.

“The yellow thread is a spell that triggers a minor shock which should render the intruder unconscious. Anyone who does not recognise the trap will fall victim to it. Do you know why I'm telling you this?”

 _Ah, there's the action item_. Emma's mind reviews the information she's been told “You want me to learn how to identify threads of magic.”

The brunette fixes Emma with an emotionless stare. When Emma has not fidgeted after a moment she inclines her head. “This is a complex example of spell work, we've made it easier to see but it's still difficult to navigate. Untapped magic exists all around us. Those who can tap into it shape its power into something that suits their needs. Visualisation continues to be an integral part but it becomes more challenging with layered intentions.

Threads are a natural metaphor for such constructions, hence threads as the visual representation. I'm going to banish the Reveal spell and then I want you to recreate it.” Without waiting for acknowledgement, Regina waves a hand and the tapestry around them fades into nothingness.

Taking a breath, Emma gathers her power into her chest, moving her arms in a similar pattern to how Regina had. Being guided makes the spell far easier to perform. Although Emma can distinctly recall the feeling she'd had, the pattern she draws does not cause the wards to materialise. These failed attempts do not frustrate her as much as those from her first lesson. A sense of assurance seems to come along with using her magic now which acts as a balm to negative feelings. Each time she tries she feels certain she's getting closer to success.

The session takes just over an hour and leaves Emma feeling like she's run a marathon, all too ready for a long nap.

“That's enough for today. I want you to continue practising the spell until we see each other again on Wednesday. Outside of my vault it will be more difficult to see magic since it won't be as structured, but you will be able to see it.”

“Thank you.” Despite the fact that Emma wants to collapse on the stone floor she does not want to hold off sharing Neal's suggestion any longer. “Hey, Regina?”

“Hmm?” The woman pauses in her tidying to glance over her shoulder at the blond.

“What would you think about hosting your own classes? On the dangers of magic I mean.”

A long silence pervades, Emma watching as the other woman finishes her organising and strides forward to face her. Her expression is as unreadable as it's been since Emma arrived today, a fact that is beginning to annoy her.

“Without the Blue Fairy?”

Emma nods.

“No one would come.”

“Some would, to know more about you.” She should have given more thought on how to handle this conversation. Emma is not surprised to see Regina drawing within herself at those words, yet she's not sure how else she might have broached the subject.

“Are you suggesting that I lay out my life for examination, Miss Swan?”

“No. I don't want you to do anything that will make you uncomfortable – only tell them how dangerous magic can be. Maybe once the adults feel more comfortable, or, understand you a bit better, they will spread the knowledge you provide to their children.”

“For someone who's in law enforcement you seem to have a knack for circumventing authority. I do not want to host sessions alongside Blue anymore than she does with me, but without her blessing no one will trust me enough to heed anything I say.” Regina's defensiveness has retreated back into the neutrality she's been wearing all day. The contrast between how intense the memory she'd shared had been and this emotionless façade has Emma at a loss for how to proceed.

Like always, Regina is right. No one will come without someone nearby who can protect them. One day Emma might be able to do whatever Regina can with her magic, but she'll never be able to best her. However, once Emma is more fully trained, she might be able to coax some of the townspeople into attending meetings with Regina.

“Maybe,” she finally replies, giving Regina a small smile. “We'll get them to see you differently.”

“Figures that you Charmings would believe in flying pigs.”

Emma's smile grows even as part of her is saddened by Regina's complete lack of faith. Whether or not Regina ever holds a session on the dangers of magic Emma wants her to feel like a member of Storybrooke, someone who is needed and valued.

 _She tries so hard for Henry - it's wrong for that effort not to be acknowledged._ Using what remains of her magical energy, Emma conjures a small version of her ball of light and sends it floating towards Regina.

The brunette raises an eyebrow as she asks, “Attempting to blow me up again, Saviour?”

“No, just hoping to brighten your day.” Turning, Emma walks from the room and up the stairs out of the vault, maintaining the ball behind her as long as she can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters are uploaded once a week (Sunday).


	8. Affinity

_ ~Regina _

Regina holds the tiny beacon between her hands as it dims. When it’s nearly gone she tries to sustain it with her own magic but the innocent light is swallowed by the flame that appears around it. Sighing, Regina banishes the entity and follows Emma out of her vault. The Saviour's blond hair glints through the misty gloom, another speck of light in an otherwise dismal area. When it's out of sight Regina waves her hands and is suddenly standing in her kitchen, coat hung in the closet, apron protecting her turtleneck and skirt.

Making a calculated turn to her right she removes a knife from its block, retrieves a turkey thigh from the fridge, and begins fixing a marinade. She does not let the suffocating presence of fate loom over her, exercising control with an experienced palate and mastered recipes.

As usual, Emma has managed to unseat her. The woman is no longer trying to, but the concern and caring she's displaying are more unsettling to Regina than threats and confrontation. Anger serves her when facing both of those. In the face of Emma Swan's good intentions and kindness Regina is without fuel.  _ I destroy goodness, _ she thinks as the turkey's blood seeps beneath her nails.  _ How can I ever hope to have a happy ending? _

Putting down the knife, Regina leans against the counter, forcing herself to concentrate on breathing. 

_ This is ridiculous! _

The likes of Emma Swan should not be able to rattle her so thoroughly. What is it about the infernal woman? Glancing out the window, Regina gazes at without actually seeing her garden, now more browns and greys than greens. Living a fake reality had been far easier than a real one, but Regina knows she wouldn't trade what she has now for what she'd woken to after enacting the curse.

Charmings, fairies, Pan, and magic aside, her relationship with Henry is the best it's ever been. Coming to terms with painful aspects of herself that can never be changed is just something she has to deal with.

Resuming the processing of the turkey in front of her, Regina finally moves beyond Emma's pure magic and recalls how the woman performed in their lesson. She is still struggling with the application, but can conjure the necessary magical energy seemingly without much effort. Then there's how much harmony exists between their powers.

Before now Regina has not dwelled on how naturally their magic works together. There had never really been time with one catastrophe happening after another. Given the difference in the root of their emotional bases, their magic should fight whenever they try to perform joint spells. Instead, it melts together almost effortlessly. Emma's contribution to destroying the fail-safe in the mines would not have helped otherwise. There'd been no time for instruction and certainly no chance for Regina to provide any energy to aid in the melding. Emma had brought the magic forth, hesitantly, and it had eagerly lent itself to the cause.

Regina thought she recalled reading something about the phenomenon – Affinity. Its presence may well be linked to the fact that Emma had been destined to break the curse. Still, why an affinity? Its existence would mean that neither can destroy the other, at least using magic, and that makes no sense. Villains are vanquished by Saviours, not tied to them.

As she is making mental notes of all the occasions where she and Emma performed magic together, Regina recalls the event right before Snow and Emma had been pulled into Storybrooke's first portal. Emma had pushed her out of the way of the Wraith... but before that they'd been trying to get the hat's magic to work. Regina had tried several times and been unsuccessful - then Emma had touched her arm and suddenly it had worked. Without consciously doing so, the Saviour must have called on her magic to help. It was her power that opened the portal to The Enchanted Forest.

Once the turkey pieces are marinating Regina washes up, removes her apron, and heads to her study. The recent perusal of her collection means she has a clear idea which books hold information on affinities. Nearly three hours later she knows only a little more than she had at the outset. Like many magical phenomenon it is not well documented. The few circumstances that she does manage to locate generally attribute the connection to people who share genetic history, such as family members. While she and Emma are technically related Regina thinks it's safe to write that off.

Affinities have also occurred between random individuals with no prior connection. Sometimes there's even been large age differences between them. In short, other than a small biological element, there seems to be no way of determining why an affinity occurs between people. What can be done with it, however, is much more thoroughly explored.

Those with magical affinities are capable of performing great acts without the usual amount of effort or risk. Their magic melds easily and amplifies each other. The type of magic, dark or light, does not appear to matter. If an affinity exists, it can be utilised by either partner for any purpose.

The bulk of the material Regina finds concerns how these connections have been abused by self-interested users. The more experienced user convinces their partner to follow a certain course or traps them in a way where their magic is usable but without autonomy. The candidates for such abusive behaviour are, not surprisingly, generally individuals who practice dark magic.

As Regina prepares the stir-fry mix to cook alongside her turkey she considers what might be done with this information. She and Emma together might be a match for Rumpelstiltskin, although some cunning would still be required to catch him unawares. If he was to find out about their affinity he might feel threatened, regardless of their intentions toward him. He might even find a way to use one to gain access to the others' power.

_ Better to keep this close, _ Regina decides. If this information fell into the wrong hands it could spell disaster for everything she's worked for.  _ Figures that yet another complication would arise. _

The brunette knows she should tell Emma that their fluid use of magic is unusual, but is unwilling to commit to a firm timeline. Imparting the knowledge means giving the Saviour yet another hold on her and she already has far too many. Regina knows the likelihood of Emma discussing their shared magic use with Gold, Neal, or even the Charmings is low. Since Henry does not have the knowledge she does he will not piece together the truth and she is the only other person in Emma's confidence, at least about magic-related topics.

Convinced that the discovery is safely contained within her mind, Regina puts all thoughts of the Saviour aside as she sits down in the living room for a quiet evening of reading.  
  


* * *

  
At precisely quarter to nine a knock sounds on her door. Sliding to her feet, Regina takes a moment to smooth her appearance before strolling slowly toward the sound. As she opens the door she sees that her delay has paid off. The confidence that Neal had pulled around himself is beginning to crack, leaving a nervous man in its place. By contrast, Henry is looking pleased and tired.

“Hey Mom.”

“Welcome back, Henry,” she smiles warmly at him, stepping aside so that he can enter. “I trust you had a good time?”

“Yes! We played some Halo and watched 'The Hulk'.”

“Not too much junk food?” This question is directed at Neal.

“He had a hamburger and salad for dinner. There may have been buttered popcorn and Skittles during the movie.”

Regina keeps the haughty smile in place as she chuckles inwardly. It really is too much fun watching the man squirm. “I suppose that can be excused. Goodnight Mr. Cassidy.”

“Regina,” Neal's body moves forward although he clearly wants to leave. “Could I speak with you for a moment?”

Nodding, concern for her son spiking, Regina ushers Henry inside with the instruction to get ready for bed. Closing the door behind her, she fixes Neal with an impatient look. She does not like the man enough to invite him inside, but she also doesn't appreciate being outside in the early October chill. “Well?”

“I just wanted to ask how things are with Emma?”

Taken aback, Regina's anger surfaces. How dare he scare her when all he wants is to mope about his feelings for the Saviour! “I don't see how that's any of your business.”

“She doesn't want to see me.”

“All the more reason for you to leave well enough alone.”

“Please Regina,” the man has an infuriating way of looking pathetic. Because she is trying to be a better person Regina takes a calming breath and answers him civilly. “She's well enough. Miss Swan's got a lot on her mind.”

“Yeah, the Blue Fairy's sessions, learning how to control her powers, keeping order in a fantastical town.” Neal's attempt to lighten the mood falls flat so he hurries on. “I've been an ass to her but I want to make sure she's getting what she needs.”

“Perhaps you should take this up with her parents.”

The man finds enough courage to gaze at her during his reply. “She trusts you. Emma'd come to you before anyone else. I think that you know that and I hope it means something.”

“My business is even less your concern.”

Nodding, Neal gathers himself for what Regina hopes is his parting remark. “I also think you should consider holding your own sessions on magic. I meant it when I told Emma that the townspeople will come and it could help you find a place here.”

“I have all I need and if you want to continue seeing Henry I suggest you keep your opinions to yourself.” Twisting the knob behind her, Regina steps back inside her house and slams the door in his face. Clenching her fists, the brunette leans against the door, barely holding onto the angry magic eager to seek a victim.

Just like that her composure is gone. How dare the man presume to tell her what she should do? Emma's well-being, beyond how it affects the town and Henry, is none of her concern. In fact, Regina would appreciate it if the Saviour banished her romantic interests to the Enchanted Forest. Neal's revelation that hosting magic sessions without the Blue Fairy had been his idea is an unpleasant one. Perhaps the Saviour is not so impartial to the man who'd abandoned her.

Whatever Emma’s feelings are for Rumpelstiltskin's son do not concern her. They do not change the fact that the idea of hosting her own sessions on magic is a stupid one. No one would come and she can't really blame them. Those brave enough would merely ridicule and judge her. Discussing her experience with magic would only give them more fuel to hurt her. No, Regina will do many things for Henry, and by extension the town, but she will not knowingly make herself a victim. The furtive glances and glares she can handle.

Pushing off the door she gradually ascends the stairs. Henry is brushing his teeth, a behaviour so domestic that she can forget magic exists. A land without magic had initially seemed a cursed thing. Now all she wants is that reality once more. “Almost ready?” She asks from the doorway.

“Yerr,” Henry speaks through a mouth full of water, Regina unable to resist the swell of affection.

Five minutes later she's tucking him into bed. Another growth spurt has made his pajama pants too short, a fact that reminds her how Henry is growing up. He will soon be thirteen and have even less time for her. While she often resents how much of his time is spent with others, Regina understands it's necessary and what Henry wants. The day he no longer needs her is one she refuses to acknowledge will ever come.

“What did you and Neal talk about?”

“Miss Swan,” she replies, smoothing the cover under his chin.

“How did today's lesson go?”

“Well enough.”

Henry's incredulous look does not prompt her to elaborate but she does plant a kiss on his forehead.

“Maybe if you and Emma perform magic together the town will see that you won't hurt them.” He states.

“Perhaps, but don't get your hopes up.”

He's picked up on the sombre mood that's haunted her all day, sitting up to look at her eye-to-eye. “It's working. People don't see you the same way. You living normally reminds them that you're human. Emma's help is also working. We'll get there.”

_ We'll _ , Regina repeats internally. Running a hand over his face, she smiles thoughtfully. “You're the best son a mother could ever ask for.” One reassuring hug later Regina is turning off his bedroom light and closing his door.

Henry's faith warms her heart but optimism is not part of her makeup. Nothing has really changed. She is still facing a distrusting town, interfering Saviour, and too many family members. Still, Regina feels renewed by her son's confidence. Yes, love is weakness, but it is also the only thing worth fighting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters are uploaded once a week (Sunday).


	9. The Bridge

_~Emma_

The issue of Blue's magic sessions had largely died down around Storybrooke by the following week. Most residents were willing to let the Blue Fairy run the sessions so long as they could be present. The start date of November 1st goes unchanged. A minor spike in disturbances around Regina's house has the town's Sheriff and deputy patrolling the nearby streets for several nights but, on the whole, most people seem to prefer pretending that Regina doesn't exist.

Although Emma is not really pleased about this, she is thankful for the respite it brings the still new mayor and Regina. Now that she has begun seeing Henry's adoptive mother at least twice a week Emma notices a lack of the brunette in the rest of it. She does not miss the ex-Mayor, she's just realised how little the older woman shows herself around town.

Storybrooke's Sheriff takes equal patrol time so is familiar with the routines of its inhabitants. Archie and Pongo take a walk between 10:30 and 11am, then another between 3:30 and 4pm. Little August (Pinocchio she is always reminding herself) has lunch with his father at Granny's on Wednesdays. Both also take daily strolls through the forest behind their house. Since taking over care of the library Belle spends 8:30am-5pm within its walls, leaving Gold to mind the shop. Neal is a bit less predictable. He generally does not show his face until 10am after which he might be found anywhere within the town, although he spends a disproportionate amount of time in the library, presumably helping Belle.

Emma expected Hook to set sail immediately after their previous exchange, but he continues to linger, doing odd jobs around the docks. Tink is rarely observed by the Sheriff, the renegade fairy seemingly holed up in her room at Granny’s most of the time. Emma has heard accounts of her being spotted in the woods but has never felt the need to check-up. Tink needs space to determine what she's going to do with her life. The dwarves work closely with the nuns, mining fairy dust for a rainy day and implementing Mary Margaret's instructions to keep Storybrooke running.

Absent from these routines is Regina who seems to have enacted a self-imposed imprisonment in her house. _She probably magics herself to her vault occasionally,_ Emma reasons. Beyond grocery shopping and transporting Henry to and from his activities she's noticeably absent. When asked, the brunette's neighbours state that she is usually performing some domestic task – gardening, cleaning, and cooking. Emma can verify all of this from her patrols.

Such quiet from Regina should comfort her, but Emma cannot make herself forget how passionate a woman Regina is. Henry's reports of his mother reveal that she is expending a good deal of energy on him, but he is not around her much these days. In their previous two magic-training sessions together Regina had kept herself firmly controlled, displaying almost no emotion. At first they would banter in their passive-aggressive yet enjoyable way and then Regina would assume teaching mode.

_Perhaps I'm reading too much into this_ , Emma thinks as her pen hovers over a report. Regina is a private person. She is giving a great deal to their sessions and Emma suspects at least part of the reason she closes off during them is to hide the pain of facing her past.

The Sheriff does not want to hurt Regina and is certainly in no position to decide what is best for her. Still, she suspects self-reflection might be beneficial for the brunette. Emma briefly thinks about discussing the matter with Archie, but decides against it. Even providing an overview to the therapist feels like a betrayal of Regina's trust. Emma is not willing to risk their friendship.

_I'll just have to do what I can on my own._

Has Regina even mourned Cora's death? The woman had been a terrible person, and worse mother, but relationships between parents and children are complicated. She does not approve of all Mary Margaret's choices, but still loves her. 

_Our lives are so fucked up_ , she thinks, leaning back in her chair. Emma intends to make a special point of seeing how Regina acts at their training session this afternoon. Regina's text states that they'll be back in her vault.

Thankfully, the Reveal spell has continued to work for her. Emma hadn’t been surprised to see dense concentrations of magic threads around Gold's shop or Regina's house. It had also not been a surprise to identify what she believes are communication threads from Gold's shop to every major point in town. The man makes it his business to know everyone else's' after all. One had been around the door to her apartment but, thankfully, none were within its walls.

The most fascinating aspect of being able to see magical energy is the revelation that it's everywhere. Some do not really fit the 'thread' description since it is without shape, unformed by conscious thought, yet it hovers, ever-shifting masses of potential just inches from her fingers. This unmolded magic tends to linger near natural areas or not far from dense concentrations of threads. Whatever the reason, magic seems drawn to living beings, particularly if those beings consciously use magic. No doubt Regina will incorporate this into today's lesson.

Signing the report in front of her, Emma slips it into the folder designated for the Mayor's office and pushes away from her desk. Tracing the pattern in the air before her, Emma watches the mist and sparse threads of magic take shape. Holding the spell, she extends her right hand and is pleased when her ball of light pops into existence. Almost immediately the clouds of untapped magic move to hover around the ball, like millions of tiny asteroids circling a sun.

_Tapping into external power extends the user's possibilities,_ she isn't sure where the thought comes from but Emma knows it's true. She can do incredible things with her own magic, but so much more could be accomplished with the magic running throughout Storybrooke. 

_But at what cost?_

Shelving that question for the moment, Emma's attention shifts toward the windowed-view of main street. Now that she’s aware of Mr Gold’s magical ‘taps’ around the neighbourhood Emma figures it’s her responsibility as Sheriff to ensure he’s not utilising them for nefarious purposes. She has, therefore, made a point of observing Mr. Gold to see if he is in constant contact with the threads he's created. All are connected into the knot around his shop but when he wanders the town he only retains a couple of connections. These would likely alert him to any disturbances at his shop and nothing more.

To remain active the threads have to be at least somewhat self-sustaining. This observation is the second sentence out of her mouth when she meets Regina for their afternoon training session.

“I'm glad to see you've taken a real interest in your studies.” The brunette adjusts her gloves and enters her vault's inner work room. “Yes, threads can be self-sustaining. What might they sustain themselves on?”

“Hm, the unformed magic?”

“Look at you. Snow will be proud to know her daughter is so clever.”

The words hold more bite than Emma's used to receiving, the realisation reminding her of the intention to observe Regina closely in this session.

“Perform the Reveal spell,” Regina commands and Emma obeys, the luminescent lights twinkling around them. Unlike their previous session, Emma can now see the unformed magic around the threads, the mist weaving between without any conscious effort.

“Is there an endless supply of magic?” She asks, glancing at Regina.

“Unformed magic is self-perpetuating. Even here, a place that did not originally have magic, has experienced no noticeable decrease in the available external magic since Gold introduced it. That being said, a user should be careful about taking too much external magic too quickly. Doing so can destabilise the world from which it’s drawn.” Regina’s tone is cool and distant, as though she’s reading from a textbook.

“There are mountains of texts speculating on what magic is. All that's known for sure is that it's directed by emotion and appears to have no limit in an unformed state.” Regina’s gaze has not left the glowing tapestry before them, face lacking any identifiable expression. 

“Self-created magic is generated by individuals transforming their emotional energy, but this is a finite resource. Personal reserves can be depleted. This is part of why there are rules around magic use, restrictions based on user capability as well as surroundings.”

“Unformed magic is attracted to emotional magic,” Emma states. The sudden words cause Regina to look at her, something the brunette has only done once since Emma's arrival. To illustrate her statement, Emma summons her ball of light, willing it to the size of a basketball. So long as she keeps the brightness reduced it is easy to see the unformed magic circling her spectre.

“Can you disengage from the ball so that only the free magic is fuelling it?” Regina inquires instead of addressing her declaration.

“I... I haven't tried.” Emma has no idea how such a thing might be accomplished. Controlling her own magic is becoming second nature, but manipulating the magic external to her is an entirely new concept.

“The magic is already hovering nearby, you just need to incorporate it. Create a bridge between it and your own.” 

Regina's words fade as Emma uses the hand not beneath her light to visually pull in the magic around it. Despite the unformed magic’s proximity it does not willingly conform to her desires, tugging and weaving between her creation in a way that destabilises the apparition. Brow furrowing, Emma extends the feelings she’s using to generate the ball, reaching out to the particles. 

_Maybe if I welcome them they’ll willingly follow my directions._

The ludicrousness of such a notion is not lost on Emma but, considering all the ludicrousness she’s become accustomed to, ultimately decides to proceed with the experiment. The process is not easy, but after nearly fifteen minutes she's managed to pull some of her own magic back, the light remaining visible although it is now partially made of external magic.

“Wow,” she says, wiping perspiration from her brow and smiling at Regina. “That’s incredible.”

“It's control. Bending forces to your will.” Regina banishes the Reveal spell and her cold response causes Emma's light to peter out as well. “I want you to continue working on that. Next time I want to see a ball sustained only by external magic.”

“Regina.” The brunette has begun sorting papers on a nearby desk, body language clearly stating dismissal. Refusing to be swayed Emma repeats the woman’s name then, upon only receiving a grunt in response, wraps her hand loosely around the brunette's arm. “What's wrong?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” Regina is still not looking at her, the arm in Emma's hand stiff and unyielding.

“Are our sessions hurting you?”

“Hurting me,” Regina gives a low, dangerous chuckle. “Do not presume such control over me, Miss Swan. I am merely bored to tears at the speed of your progress.”

Regina's unwillingness to confide makes it difficult for Emma to avoid taking the ex-Mayor's bait. Verbal sparring matches with true malice are behind them, but the two strong-willed women do not usually back down from challenges.

“Please, Regina. I'm your friend -.”

“Friend,” the brunette's tone is venomous. “I can't say the title has been earned. A friend would not discuss another's private business with a supposed ex-lover.”

“What are you talking about?” Confused and angry, Emma forgets her determination to remain calm and takes a step closer to Regina.

“Apparently it was Mr. Cassidy's idea that I should host my own magic sessions. And here I was thinking that you and he were no longer having intimate chats.” Regina is wearing her haughtiest, most uncaring expression, the one that makes her appear like an all-powerful goddess. As it is meant to, the pose paired with carefully chosen words strike hard at Emma's guilt and fears, fanning her simmering rage into an inferno.

“Don't you dare assume you know what's going on! Yes, Neal suggested the idea but I have never betrayed your confidence. He and I are over. Neal gave me advice when I needed it. Since it was sound I passed it along.”

“Apparently Charmings don't possess enough of their own stupidity so they pass other's off as their own.”

“Why are you being such a bi-.” Suddenly Emma's standing on a rope bridge suspended at least a thousand feet above a ravine. On the ledge a dozen feet ahead of her stands Regina, arms crossed over her chest, fury burning in her eyes. “New lesson. We'll see how well you can perform magic under pressure.”

“What?” Emma's question is cut short as a terrible snapping sound erupts from behind. Blood turning cold with fear, she turns pleading eyes on the woman before her. “Regina!”

“Use your magic to save yourself, Saviour.” The brunette's emotionless words are accompanied by another snapping sound.

The wooden planks beneath Emma's feet give way, leaving her hanging by the only two remaining ropes. “Regina!” She cries again, terror taking hold. 

_I'm going to die._ Emma thinks, desperately holding on. Unable to watch, Emma closes her eyes as her only connection to safety gives way and she falls into nothingness.

* * *

_~Regina  
_

“No!” Regina shouts as Emma disappears beneath her.

_What have I done?!_ Barely a second after the ropes snap, Regina reaches out with her power to find the blond and transport her to safety, but her presence has vanished from Regina's awareness.

_I should be able to sense her! Why can't I sense her?_ Magically tethering herself to a nearby tree, Regina peers over the edge. Maybe she can't sense Emma because the woman has lost consciousness in which case only a visual lock will enable her to save Henry's birth mother.

_My friend._

The view beneath Regina shows only rocks and river.

A crack behind her causes Regina to spin around. Emma Swan stands barely two feet away, breathing fast, hair and clothes dishevelled, eyes alight with fear. When she realises she's on solid ground with Regina before her that light changes and suddenly Regina is reeling back from the force of a fist against her cheek. Too shocked to defend herself, the brunette staggers against the tree to which she is still tethered, covering her throbbing cheek with a hand.

Neither woman is able to speak for several moments. Regina expects another blow, but when none seems imminent she glances up at the Saviour. Emma's anger and fear are lessening, a nameless void taking their place. Regina needs to speak before the blond does. She wants to apologise, but no words can ever excuse what she's done. Instead, all of the pain, regret, and guilt Regina has been reliving the past week rush up to consume her.

“Oh Emma.” Burying her face in her hands, Regina curls forward, her breaths coming in short, laboured gasps. Unable to form any other words, Regina sobs uncontrollably into the leather of her gloves, wishing that she'd died years ago. Trampled by a horse, bitten by the viper intended for the king, skewered by one of Snow's arrows, any death that would have prevented the pain she's caused Henry and now Emma - the only two people who truly mean anything to her.

If it had been possible to will herself out of existence Regina knows she could have managed it then. No matter how she tries to change, she will always be a monster.

A strange yet comforting presence presses its way into her awareness, materialising in the form of two arms around her back, pressing her head into a chest that smells of cinnamon. Whimpering, Regina snuggles closer to the warmth around her until she's almost in Emma's lap, head cradled in the crook where the blond's neck and shoulder meet.

In the illogical space where time and pride do not exist Regina wonders if this is the first time someone has held her while she cried. It can't have been, but it's been so long, so many lifetimes ago, that this feels like the first.

_Cared for by someone whose life I ruined._

Whenever Regina attempts to gather herself a fresh round of painful sobs renders her speechless, Emma silently rubbing circles on her back. So much time passes that Regina begins to fear returning to normalcy. If the Saviour kills her now it will be more than she deserves. She can pass out of this cursed existence knowing that for a few precious moments, she hadn't been alone.

Of course, she has Henry to return to and Emma would never kill her, no matter how many bridges she collapses under the blond. The thought adds to the numbing exhaustion in Regina's spent body. It is almost time to rejoin reality and she really hates reality. Wetting her lips, she tries once more to apologise.

“Emma -.”

“Regina.” Gently, Emma pulls away so they can look at each other. Regina knows she's a mess. Her make-up is smeared all over her face, one side of her mouth swollen from Emma's punch. She's surprised to see Emma has also been crying, although exhaustion makes the emotion feel far away.

“I forgive you.” Emma gives a small, tired smile and Regina feels a flicker of brightness among all her dark feelings.

“I tried to kill you.” Her voice is strained.

“No, you were teaching me.” The blond hesitates before continuing. “Did I pass the test?”

The laugh comes out of nowhere, surprising Regina yet making her feel so much better. “With flying colours.”

Emma's expression turns serious again. “Please don't shut me out.”

Regina takes a breath, searching for the strength to be a hero. “I will try. I might need reminding... but I promise I will try.”

“That's all I want.” Cautiously, Emma places a hand over Regina's swollen cheek. “Sorry about your face.”

“I deserve far worse.”

Inclining her head, Emma shifts so that there is more space between them. “Do you think you can stand?”

“I can't feel my legs but they should function.” Slowly stretching out their aching limbs, Emma and Regina help each other to their feet, exchanging furtive glances while the circulation returns.

Regina does not really want to return to Storybrooke so Emma is the one to suggest they start heading back. Although Emma's teleportation has drained her, the two manage to walk back to Regina's mansion where the brunette insists Emma have some food and drink before going home.

The two talk of small things – the weather, town restoration projects, movies – the substance doesn't matter. Each is content in the other's company and when they part, falling into bed barely an hour later, both feel safe in a way they'd never thought possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters are uploaded once a week (Sunday).


	10. Baku

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is where the story truly begins for me. The seeds of what's to come have been planted... now we get to watch them grow.

_~Emma_

The next couple of weeks pass without incident, even in her magic lessons with Regina. Emma's subtle suggestion that Regina get out more is being heeded, the brunette gradually expanding her presence around town. On her patrols the Sheriff spots her friend taking walks in public places, assisting with community projects and even making small talk with Storybrooke's residents. Coffees from Granny's begin appearing on her desk Emma's second day back in the Station. Grateful but knowing Regina will not accept thanks, she settles for sending the ex-Mayor knowing smiles when their paths cross.  
  
Neither share the event at the cliff with anyone - a decision they haven't discussed but agree on nonetheless. Emma feels no need to share what occurred and knows Regina never will. On one hand Emma wishes the event could have been avoided, on the other she is thankful for it. Something fundamental has changed in her relationship with Regina.  
  
Witnessing such vulnerability in a woman who tries so hard to be strong is a gift Emma does not treat lightly. The strength Regina wears generally comes clothed in anger since it's the emotion she's been trained to foster. They speak about this at their next session while Emma's teasing more external energy into her ball of light.  
  
“It's possible that I may be able to use less negative emotions in my magic,” Regina concedes, watching Emma work and occasionally guiding her when she struggles with holding the ball while withdrawing her power. “It would take practice. Using positive memories will necessitate a shift in my outlook. I'm not used to thinking optimistically.”  
  
“I wouldn't consider myself an optimist,” Emma replies. “That's more my mother's style. I tend to think the best of people, which might be genetic.” She pauses as the light dims, continuing once its stability has returned. “I don't trust people, though. I've had too many bad experiences for that.”  
  
“You think well of others but don't trust them?” Regina's amused smile warms Emma's heart.  
  
“I know, it's a dichotomy.” Pulling away the last of her own magic, Emma breathes a sigh of relief when her ball of light remains hovering in the air. It's not as vibrant, but she's done it. She can now sustain her spells using only external magic.  
  
Regina's hand on her shoulder prompts Emma to turn toward her, the two sharing a comfortable moment that could never have existed prior to the bridge incident. “I think it's a reasonable way to live,” the brunette states.  
  


* * *

  
Two days before the Blue Fairy is to being hosting her Friday classes one of the magical threats Storybrooke is becoming famous for occurs. The intruders enter town sometime after the dwarves have closed the mines for the day, following the well-worn path from the caves, and entering the convent. The spectres glide through cracks in windows and floorboards, keeping their presences hidden until the sacred area's residents are quiet. Their immaterial essence slithers over covers, waiting for a moment to assess if there is any threat, then flowing like air into the noses of the sleeping nuns.  
  
The Blue Fairy recounts how she and one of her assistants woke to the sound of screams, rushing into the nearest bedroom. “We soon discovered that it was not just one woman,” Blue states, face taught with stress. Abigail, the nun beside her, is wringing her hands.  
  
“How many?” Emma lets David take notes while she questions the witnesses, fighting off drowsiness with a strong coffee.  
  
“Eleven,” Blue replies, her eyes shooting to the door as Mary Margaret comes bursting in.  
  
“Sorry I couldn't get here sooner,” Emma's mother exclaims, tucking her jacket under her arm and trying to catch her scarf as it slips to the floor.  
  
Behind her Emma hears David suppress a chuckle and mutter, “Sometimes I can't believe you survived in the woods.”  
  
Hiding the quirk of her mouth behind her mug, Emma returns her attention to the crisis at hand. “Is anyone with the nuns now?”  
  
“Sarah, Engrid and Tinkerbelle. Sarah and Engrid were the only other two not affected.”  
  
 _And Tink came to help,_ Emma thinks.  
  
“Do you have any idea what might have caused this?”  
  
“I do.”  
  
When the woman does not immediately elaborate, Emma prompts her. “And that would be?”  
  
“Baku. They're dream eaters from the Enchanted Forest. They were more common in the eastern provinces, but not unheard of in the west.”  
  
“Have you heard of this animal?” Emma turns to her parents, both responding with a shake of their heads.  
  
“They're not animals,” Blue corrects. “Like wraiths they do not exist in the physical world. Wraiths feed on souls, Baku feed on dreams. The victim must be asleep before the Baku can enter them but once it's inside it keeps the person in a perpetual state of dreaming. Eventually the victim dies of physical and mental exhaustion.”  
  
“Do you know a way to free the fairies and defeat the Baku?” Mary Margaret asks, now at David's side.  
  
“It's possible to draw them out of a person with magic but, since they don't physically exist they cannot be destroyed here. The Baku would simply move on to another victim. The only way to prevent further attacks is to banish or destroy them in the dream world.”  
  
 _Easy as pie_ , Emma thinks. Of course, she's never baked a pie in her life. Baking is Regina's passion. “Have you ever killed one?”  
  
“Killing is not in a fairy's nature,” the woman's attitude of superiority becomes more pronounced. “On the occasion where we had to deal with them they were banished.”  
  
“How do you think these Baku got here?” Mary Margaret does not sound accusatory but Blue levels a suspicious stare at the mayor.  
  
“I have no idea. They would have used a magical passageway to enter this plain. I would like to investigate further but the well-being of my girls is of primary importance.”  
  
“I agree. David, could you please fetch Regina and both meet us at the Convent?” Emma requests.  
  
“Of course,” he replies, pocketing his notebook and cellphone. Blue's commanding voice stops him as he's turning toward the door.  
  
“I will not have that woman in the minds of my charges.”  
  
Taking a deep breath, Emma meets Mary Margaret's eyes, hoping the mayor will step in. Thankfully, she does.  
  
“Regina is completely trustworthy. She and Emma have been training together. I know they can help those trapped by the Baku.”  
  
“So long as the Saviour is with me in a mind, I am quite capable of banishing the beast.”  
  
“With all due respect, Blue, destroying them is our best way to ensure they do not harm anyone else.” Emma states. “We don't know how they got here which means they could have come from somewhere you banished them. If you're not comfortable destroying them Regina and I will handle it.”  
  
Mary Margaret's agreement and the urgency of the situation silences Blue's protests. Twenty minutes later Emma is standing over the bed of a thrashing young woman. Her arms and legs have been strapped down to prevent injury, a gag wrapped around her head preventing her from biting her tongue. The scene is extremely disturbing. The poor nun is convulsing sporadically, stress lines marring her face, eyes rolling behind their lids. Emma finds herself compelled to watch even as she tries to look away. The whole atmosphere feels unnatural. Had she not known magical elements were involved Emma still thinks she'd have realised there was more than a seizure going on. Although not as ominous as the presence the wraith had fostered, both creatures manifest similar feelings.  
  
Footsteps behind her enable Emma to tear her gaze away from the suffering woman and look at the small doorway where Regina is coming into view, David not far behind. Mary Margaret and Blue are off to one side, the latter intently watching Regina with a stern frown. By contrast, Emma's face breaks into a relieved smile at the brunette's approach.  
  
“Charming filled me in on the ride here,” Regina is wearing a long, dark coat that adds to her confident persona. _How can she look so good no matter what's happening?_ Emma wonders with fond exasperation. It's barely three in the morning yet Regina looks as though she's just come from a fancy restaurant. The only indication that she'd been asleep less than half an hour ago is the slightly foggy glaze to her eyes.  
  
“Abigail's with Henry,” David states.  
  
Nodding, Emma turns her attention back to the brunette. “Have you ever handled a Baku before?”  
  
Regina stands shoulder-to-shoulder with Emma, each woman almost pressed against the bed.  
  
“No, but I'm familiar with how to destroy corporeal entities.”  
  
“Well that's a relief.”  
  
Sharing a brief smile, Emma and Regina extend their hands toward the struggling sleeper. The magic that forms at their fingertips curls outward, brushes, then drifts into the young woman.  
  
“Follow my lead,” Regina's hypnotic voice echoes as Emma lets her mind drift with the magic.  
  
Navigating the liquid, illogical space of a mental landscape is very different from shaping magic in the real world. Emma recognises the feeling from her own regular excursions into dreamland. Regina's presence nearby eases some of the anxiety she's feeling. Although she can't identify any threat, the sense of wrongness around her makes Emma extremely glad she has someone experienced with her.  
  
' _I need you to bring the girl to us,'_ Regina's voice is strange yet undeniably hers. If you can even call it a voice since Emma knows she isn't hearing it with her ears. ' _The Baku will follow her.'_  
  
Since Regina has admitted to having no prior contact with these things, Emma decides to try experimenting. _What's comforting when you're having a nightmare?_ She puzzles.  
  
The answer comes surprisingly fast. Gathering her magic, Emma lets it build until the lullaby in her memory is resonating in the space around her. She has no idea where she first heard the song, but the tune never fails to calm her nerves. Not that she would admit to still humming a lullaby as a thirty-one year-old woman.  
  
A figure appears out of the nothingness. It's stumbling, bringing with it a restless energy both hopeful and frightened. As the woman comes closer another entity follows along just behind her. The Baku does not have an appearance, only a sense of impending doom. Even though it's not in her own mind, Emma still feels the overwhelming desire to flee from it.  
  
 _What an awful fate, to be stuck in your mind trying to escape an entity that has rigged the game._ Letting her compassion for the woman strengthen her comforting lullaby, Emma draws the nun and Baku closer.  
  
Not knowing what Regina is going to do does not shake Emma's confidence in her teacher. The nun's searching presence has almost touched Emma's immaterial form when the beast behind her wrenches the space around them. Emma feels Regina take action in the same moment, halting the free-fall Emma briefly experiences. Reaching out, her magic meets Regina's and follows her lead in weaving a containment around the thrashing monster.  
  
 _'We must make sure none of it remains in the girl's mind,'_ Regina says, Emma using her rudimentary familiarity with the nun's presence to separate human from Baku.  
  
 _'I'm going to pull its energy apart,'_ Regina warns. Almost immediately Emma has difficulty focusing. Another awful vibration shakes her awareness and Emma's suddenly in a foster home from twenty years ago. The eldest son there had made life a living hell for pre-teen Emma, playing on her insecurities. And she'd had her fair share of those.  
  
 _'Figures nobody'd want you.'_ He jeers. ' _You're ugly.'  
_  
The taunts are juvenile, part of her had known even then they were unfounded, yet the words cut deep. She can feel tears in her eyes, tinged with a burning anger to turn the boy in front of her to ash.  
  
 _'Nobody'll ever want you. You're a failure.'_  
  
 _Stop it!_ Her mind cries and she realises Regina's voice echoes the sentiment. _The Baku is trying to drag us down. We must be winning_ , Emma thinks.  
  
Shutting out the boy's voice is difficult. The memory is still raw after so many years, but in her heart Emma knows he is wrong. She has a family and has become a self-sufficient woman. Before Storybrooke she'd had a successful career built from scratch by turning her faults into strengths. Since Storybrooke she's found people who love her along with something to believe in.  
  
 _Regina_ , Emma weaves her magic around the other woman's, pushing through the haunting memories the Baku has summoned and drawing out the ones they've shared together. Her companion responds, extracting herself from the fear and anger after a brief struggle. Emma cannot see the memories plaguing Regina but can feel the intense sadness.  
  
 _Neither of us has to face this alone._ With their minds focused and their magic intertwined, Emma holds the Baku while Regina pulls away its energy. When nothing remains of the creature, the two extend their magic to check the young woman's mind for any more disturbances. Finding none they withdraw, returning to the room where Blue, Mary Margaret, and David are waiting.  
  
Emma's mother is ready with glasses of water which both greedily accept. “How do you feel?” she asks, aiming the question at Emma.  
  
“Remarkably well, actually.” The experience has tired her, but Emma thinks repeating the process will be less of a drain now that she knows what to do.  
  
“Did you destroy it?” David inquires. This time the question is directed at Regina.  
  
“We did,” Regina gives him a small smile, rotating her shoulders and neck.  
  
“I would like to examine Emily,” Blue says, although her tone is not confrontational. Using Emma as an anchor for a quick retreat, Blue enters the nun's mind. Barely a moment later she's returned. “I see no trace of the Baku and no damage to Emily's mind.”  
  
Said girl is now sleeping peacefully, restraints and gag the only signs that she'd been in distress.  
  
David frees her of these as Blue leads them to the next victim.  
  
“Hey,” Emma says to Regina as they trail between Blue and Mary Margaret. “How are you doing?”  
  
“Well enough. It will take more than a few dream-eating monsters to unhinge Storybrooke.” Although she is subdued, Emma can see energy in her eyes. An excited energy the blond associates with triumph.  
  
The next four hours pass in a monotonous cycle of mind-searching, magic-using and life-saving. When she disengages from the final suffering woman, Emma nearly loses consciousness. She's never used magic for such an extended period before. Without Regina's presence she knows she wouldn't have lasted long enough to save all the nuns. Even Regina is looking worn when Emma blinks back into consciousness, the brunette channeling external magic into Emma's low reserves.  
  
“Next we need to work on your magical awareness,” Regina's rich voice says above her. “You need to know when you're getting low on energy.”  
  
“Or I might disappear,” Emma says, thinking of the Baku they've been fighting.  
  
“Not exactly, but you could do yourself serious harm.” When Regina shifts, Emma realises she's cradled in the brunette's lap. The position is not all that different from how she'd held Regina after the bridge incident. This time, however, Emma feels heat rise into her cheeks. Weakly, she tries to re-establish her independence, but is only successful with David's assistance.  
  
“You both look like you need a good sleep,” Mary Margaret observes.  
  
“Until we find how those creatures got here, I will not be sleeping,” Regina states.  
  
The thought of becoming a victim to one of those monsters makes Emma more alert but she can tell it's only temporary. Her body is going to crash soon, no matter what might lie in wait for her.  
  
“Can you keep Emma awake?” Mary Margaret asks with urgency.  
  
“No, even sustaining her with external magic won't be enough. Her body needs to rest. There's only one place she can do that safely.”  
  
“Where?” David and Mary Margaret ask in unison.  
  
“With me.”  
  
Regina's answer shocks Emma into facing her, the sudden movement causing a painful neck cramp.  
  
“I've placed special protections around my house since magic returned. Nothing gets in without me knowing. Emma can recover there while Blue and the other fairies identify where the Baku are coming from.”  
  
“Then it's settled,” David states, shifting to more comfortably support Emma. “To the car.”  
  
Fifteen minutes later Emma is leaning against the bed in Regina's spare bedroom, her exhausted brain trying to make sense of what's happening. She's in Regina's house, she's going to sleep there. She is going to sleep there so nothing eats her while she sleeps. Regina isn't going to sleep.  
  
“Hey,” she says as Regina enters the room. Emma suspects she's seen David out and checked on Henry but the blond is having trouble telling how much time is passing.  
  
“Hey what?” Regina's arms are crossed, but Emma thinks she looks more amused than annoyed by her rudeness.  
  
“You said you weren't going to sleep.”  
  
“Because I'm not.”  
  
Emma suddenly finds herself in a set of incredibly comfortable pyjamas. “Wha-.”  
  
“Get in bed and I'll explain.”  
  
Tamping down the urge to pout grumpily, Emma crawls under the covers and waits, barely resisting the weight of sleep now that she's under soft, warm blankets.  
  
Striding up beside her, Regina cocks her head to one side, an unreadable expression on her face. “I'm not sleeping because someone has to monitor you. I don't want you falling into a coma. That's what I meant when I said overusing your magic can be dangerous.”  
  
Swallowing, Emma holds Regina's gaze. “So, you'll stay with me?”  
  
“For a time. Until I'm sure you're safe.” The brunette becomes so much kinder when they're alone together. Emma does not miss the cool distance or the passive aggression that had once dominated their relationship. No, it is so much better being the ex-Evil Queen/Mayor's friend.  
  
“Thanks.” As Emma's eyes close she loses touch with the world around her, falling into the pillowy depths of a dreamless slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters are uploaded once a week (Sunday).


	11. Pancakes

_~Regina_

How odd that it has come to this. Here she is, nursing Emma Swan in her spare bedroom. Henry left for school over an hour ago, leaving the two women alone in the huge house. As expected, Emma passed out almost immediately. Their recent magic sharing and the blond's weakened state making it easy for Regina to slide past her mental shields.

Once inside Emma's mind, Regina waits for any sign of occupation. While it’s true that no monster should be able to get past the defenses she’s put on the house, a Baku may have entered Emma while she was outside them. Although it has stabilised with time, magic can still be unpredictable in Storybrooke, meaning that magical monsters might also have unusual capabilities.

When she finally pulls out of Emma's mind, content that the Saviour is in no danger, Regina’s surprised to discover over an hour had passed. The passage of time is difficult to perceive in the mind, yet the loss of so much of it further illustrates the magical affinity she shares with Snow's daughter. The melding of their magic generates feelings of assurance and security. Although Regina was initially suspicious of this side-effect, she’s gradually accepting the comfort it elicits.

 _Perhaps I'm learning how to be less uptight,_ Regina thinks, smiling to herself. 

She hasn’t had any success using emotions other than anger to fuel her magic but she definitely feels better about life now than she has in a long time. Although the process is tedious and often annoying, Regina likes seeing her efforts for inclusion in the town slowly paying off. She's not liked per se, but most tolerate her presence with fewer glares than they once had.

She and Henry are also getting along most of the time. A mother and son cannot always be on good terms, but at least she feels like they're on the same team. Contrary to how she'd felt at their inception, her training sessions with Emma have become the highlight of her week. The Saviour can be funny, cute, and insightful as well as annoying, naïve, and frustrating. Who knew it was possible to feel at odds with and yet so much akin to someone? Emma Swan gives off an aura of self-assurance. Some of it is an act, the same way some of her own confidence is, yet Regina also recognises Emma's strength.

_Perhaps that's why we share an affinity – we both endured hardship, overcame it, and were not hardened by it._

Well, she has been, but Regina knows she's getting better. Determination and perseverance have served her well and are proving suitable allies for self-reformation as well.

Regina briefly considers being productive – she'd been preparing to spend the day cooking pies for the upcoming school bake sale. However, since she spent the night destroying beasts that feed on dreams instead of sleeping, she thinks a bit of laziness is excusable.

Coming back from her wandering thoughts, Regina realises she's stroking the hair back from Emma's face. She'd often done the same for Henry, particularly when he was ill. It feels strange to be giving the same treatment to his birth mother, yet it also feels natural.

_Perhaps it's because I haven't seen many people sleeping._

The peaceful vulnerability is mesmerizing. Regina's mind drifts as her eyes follow the planes of Emma's face. _She must shower in the morning. Her hair's greasy,_ Regina thinks. Normally the blond's hair is full and buoyant, like golden clouds.

 _Oh dear, I must really be tired if I'm thinking like this._

Pushing herself off the bed, Regina leaves the spare bedroom's door open a crack and enters her own room. The routine of undressing and putting on yoga pants and a T-shirt is always therapeutic. Despite the desire for sleep, Regina wraps a robe around herself, puts on her slippers and walks downstairs. Glancing out at her backyard, she opens the glass door and steps out. Cool air brings fresh awareness to her mind and she spends the next hour raking leaves from her lawn. It is not necessary, but serves its purpose of keeping her awake.

Returning indoors, Regina gathers a set of fresh clothes and steps into the main floor's shower, locking the door behind her. Hot showers are generally a mandatory part of her daily routine, their relaxing qualities essential to ensuring she's in a calm mental state. On this occasion, however, she opts for a lukewarm experience, afraid that her usual temperature will increase the likelihood of a desire for sleep.

After fifteen minutes she's dressed and has a fresh mug of coffee in hand, damp hair sending sporadic cold trickles down the back of her blouse. Around the house Regina opts for less formal garb than she wears in public, but only adorns truly unfashionable clothes when the activity necessitates. Gardening and cleaning fit this bill. For cooking there are aprons.

Setting her work clothes from the past couple of days along with Emma's to wash, Regina glances at the clock then goes to check on Emma. The Saviour is now taking up the majority of the bed, her left leg and arm splayed to encompass the side not occupied by her body. A low snore is issuing from her open mouth. If a headache hadn't been forming in her temple Regina might have found the image more amusing.

_Stay awake._

The brunette warms herself a croissant and eats it while cleaning her study. Despite her internal command, Regina is jolted out of a standing daydream when Emma knocks on the study door.

“Hey.” The blond looks annoyingly refreshed. Her long hair is disheveled, the pajamas one size too large for her, the top two buttons of the shirt undone. She looks comfortable, Regina decides. Certainly her relaxed posture lends itself to that interpretation. Emma has helped herself to a coffee, the steaming beverage clutched in both hands.

“How did you sleep?” Regina asks, certain that some frustration has infiltrated her voice. Honestly, can the Saviour hold it against her?

“Wonderfully. Doesn't look like you have, though.”

“I said I wouldn't.”

“I'll watch over you.”

Regina is pretty sure the old Regina would have heard condescension in Emma's words, but the blond's sincerity is evident in her eyes and concerned expression. Being cared for is disconcerting, although Regina finds she's getting more comfortable with the reality – so long as it's Emma. Snow has begun showing signs of concern for her over the past month, and that is something Regina'll never get used to.

When Regina does not reply to her offer, Emma takes a step closer and peers more closely at the brunette. “Regina, you need to sleep.”

Admitting that she's afraid to do so is not in Regina's repertoire. Instead, she turns back to her cleaning, an annoyed sigh issuing from her companion.

“When the nuns discover where the Baku are coming from they'll need our help stopping them,” Emma says. “You need to regain your strength.” Emma's disapproving stare follows Regina around the room as she finishes one shelf and is approaching another.

“You can either stand there glaring at me or you can help.” Putting off the inevitable is not generally her style, but showing weakness is yet another thing she is not used to and does not like. As irrational as it is, she feels that pretending she wants to finish this task is better than admitting to a fear of sleeping. How to save face is one of the first lessons her mother taught her and it is one skill she's been grateful for throughout adulthood.

Many people can be manipulated into thinking you are better than them by how you hold yourself. If you acted like you were right they'd often believe you were. Emma had never been one of those people.

The cloth she's using disappears from her hand. Regina's turning to glare at the Saviour when she realises they are no longer in the study. Regina is standing next to her bedroom door, Emma leaning against the wall across from her, arms crossed and a smug expression on her face. Exhaustion prevents Regina from effectively masking her surprise which makes the blond's triumphant smile widen.

“I'm impressed. You must have slept well.”

“I suspect someone might have been aiding the healing process.” Emma's smile softens as she pushes off the wall. “Go to sleep, Regina. I'll be here.”

Unable to find a reasonable excuse, Regina sighs and turns the knob to her room. “See you in a few hours then.” Her door swings open without a sound, Regina both eager and hesitant to collapse on the bed.

“Yeah.” Emma's warm hand touches her arm, startling Regina into looking at her. Almost immediately Emma drops it, a slight blush on her cheeks. “Remember, if you need me.”

Nodding, Regina steps inside her dim bedroom - curtains blocking out a cloudy day - and closes the door behind her. She listens to Emma's steps as they descend the stairs. _Likely to get food._ The thought of the Saviour rifling through her fridge and cupboards does not bother her, a sign that Regina really is tired.

It feels like an eternity has passed by the time she's gotten her pajamas. Steeling her resolve, Regina climbs under the heavy blanket and silken sheets. The pull of sleep becomes even stronger. Still, the brunette resists long enough to seek out Emma's presence through the magical threads in her house. Gently anchoring her magic to the blond’s, Regina finally lets herself fall into the blissful void.

* * *

She can still feel Emma while she sleeps. The connection does not allow for identification of activity – like all other aspects of the subconscious it consists of a vague, disembodied awareness lacking logic or detail. Only feeling exists. Whether the feelings Regina experiences are reflections of Emma's or her own she can't tell. They move from anxiety to hopefulness to fear and wonder, but a sense of Emma's presence is always there.

As she approaches wakefulness, Regina realises she missed an opportunity to chide Emma for sleeping so comfortably in the house of someone who'd tried to kill her. Then she decides she'd rather not bring that topic up.

Regina has no idea how she would have handled the blond's death – if she had died at the bridge. It would have destroyed her relationship with Henry and whatever she'd managed to create with the Charmings. The loss would have gone beyond her son, though. At times she doesn't like it, but the fact is she now relies on Emma. Losing her would leave an emptiness no one else could fill. Emma is a true friend and the ex-Evil Queen has too few of those to take any for granted.

The clock beside her bed reads 5:46pm when she properly comes back to consciousness. A quick magical scan of the house reveals that Henry is not present. Since it's his night with the Charmings Regina is not concerned, although she will not rest truly easy until the Baku infestation is eradicated. What bothers her the most is that Emma Swan has been unsupervised in her house for nearly five hours. The realisation spurs her up onto her feet. She can tell that the Saviour is not performing any nefarious activity and that she's in the living room. Beyond that only sight can provide further details.

Wrapping her robe around herself, Regina gives her hair a brief tidying and steps into the upstairs hallway. The distant sound of a television confirms her suspicions about Emma's whereabouts and allows her to creep downstairs under cover of a loud action movie. Peeking around the wall, Regina's surprised to see that the living room is now empty.

_Emma must have left in the time it took me to get downstairs._

An empty bottle of soda is on the coffee table and a disheveled blanket lies on the couch. She hadn't really expected Emma to destroy her house while she slept, but seeing how normal everything looks is deeply comforting.

Briefly touching her house's magic, she locates Emma in the kitchen. As she approaches, the sounds of oil in a pan meet her ears, causing her to tense. Emma is cooking in her kitchen – what is she going to walk in on? She has no chance to sneak up on the blond this time since Emma is facing the open doorway as Regina approaches. A large metal bowl and ladle are in her hand. The woman inclines her head before turning to the stove and dropping a generous portion of batter into the hot pan.

“Good morning,” Emma greets cheerfully, glancing over her shoulder.

Crossing her arms, Regina plasters on her most smug smile. “Morning is generally when the sun rises not sets, Miss Swan.”

Chuckling, Emma eases a flipper under the first pancake. “Someone slept well.”

“It's amazing what wonders a good sleep does for wit.”

“And sass.”

Grinning despite herself, Regina steps up beside Emma. “Dinner?”

“Thought we could use a high energy meal after - you know - Everything.” Emma turns the pancake.

“Is Henry with Snow and Charming?”

“Yeah, they stopped in while you were sleeping. Henry wanted me to tell him as soon as you were up, but I thought waiting until after food would be alright.”

“You knew I was awake?”

Emma makes a noise of affirmation, appearing to purposely avoid meeting Regina's eyes.

“And how did you know that?”

The blond's mouth quirks slightly and Regina knows she's going to attempt a humourous response. “Magic.”

“In any other circumstance I'd say you were avoiding the question, but given that we live in Storybrooke -.” Emma faces her long enough to share a conspirator's smile, pancake number two coming out of the pan. As she's dropping in the third, Emma elaborates.

“I wasn't sure what I was feeling at first, but figured you must have tied yourself to me with magic somehow, or that being in your house made me connected to you in some way.” A shrug. “Whatever the cause, I was aware of you in the back of my mind so I knew when you woke up.”

“And here I was thinking you'd turned up the television to accomplish the task.”

“Your house is amazingly soundproof,” Emma responds lamely, adding another pancake to the batch staying warm in the oven. “Did it bother you?”

“No.” Regina moves comfortably around her kitchen despite the additional occupant, setting the table for a pancake dinner. The manner in which Emma voiced her previous statement causes Regina to look at the blond more closely. Her companion seems more sheepish than usual. Part of that could be attributed to tiredness, but Regina can't shake the suspicion that something else is going on.

_Worried about the town perhaps, or nervous because this is her first time unsupervised in my house._

“Hey, what are you smiling about?” Emma is watching her, an indescribable look in her eyes.

“How nervousness is a maddening trait in your family.” The statement serves to snap Emma out of whatever mood had been holding her back, as she'd hoped it would. Regina can handle their usual dynamic. An Emma who is abnormally shy, considerate, and adorable – that is way out of her comfort zone.

“I'm concerned about what the nuns have found. Last I heard they'd traced the Baku to the mines. Mary Margaret said they might even be able to seal the passage themselves, but I'd like to double-check their work if they do.”

Deciding to silently wallow in the pleasant fact that Emma is not confident in the fairies' magical competence, Regina excuses herself and performs a brief straightening up in the nearby bathroom. When she returns Emma has turned off the stove and is placing two pancakes on each of their plates.

“I've always had doubts about your cooking ability, but these do smell delicious.”

“Thank you. I hope they taste good.” Some of the sheepishness has reasserted itself in Emma's manner and it suddenly occurs to Regina that this is the most undressed she's ever been in front of the blond. The fact does not make her uncomfortable, but perhaps Emma is more squeamish about such things. 

One flick of her wrist later Regina is clothed in a casual blouse and grey dress pants. The wardrobe change does seem to make Emma more comfortable since she is able to look at the brunette as they eat, Regina teasing Emma about the amount of syrup she uses as Emma does the same for Regina's use of fork and knife to cut the pancakes into perfect squares.

The whole meal goes surprisingly well. They even manage to finish cleaning up before Emma's phone rings. “Mary Margaret says we're needed at the mines.”

“Ready to face more dream monsters?” As they move toward the front door, Regina graces the blond with a look she hopes will boost her confidence.

“I think so, although I'm not really dressed for it.” Emma looks down at the pajamas she's still wearing. The blond has no idea her clothes have been washed and are folded on the table in Regina's laundry room, a fact that causes a smirk to slither across the brunette's lips.

“Soon you'll be able to summon your own clothes.” A second later Emma is once more in her original attire, the blond looking simultaneously pleased, surprised, and anxious. 

Slipping into her long jacket, Regina locks the house behind them and settles into the driver's seat of her Mercedes. One small hesitation later Emma is in the passenger's seat, looking even less comfortable than she did about being dressed by an invisible force. Admittedly, compared to Emma's deathtrap of a car, Regina's vehicle is fresh off the lot. No food or beverage has ever touched its interior and she keeps it in top form with regular maintenance and detailing.

As the engine purrs to life, Regina sits a bit straighter in her seat, reverses out of the laneway and drives them toward the eastern edge of town.

“Thank you for – everything,” Emma's voice is softer than her usual tone, her attention directed out the side window.

Glancing at the blond out of the corner of her eye, Regina wonders how, or even if, she should respond. Having the Saviour at her house for half a day had not been as horrible as she would have imagined it to be. Regina does not generally like people. Since coming to a world without magic the only person she's been able to stand for any significant length of time has been Henry.

Her friendship with Snow White's daughter has been anything but easy, yet Emma continues making her way further into Regina's life. Are they at a stage where such appreciation can be acknowledged with just a nod? One benefit of the Enchanted Forest had been its clear social protocol. There she would have known the proper response thanks to familiar ties, business partnerships, and hierarchy.

In the end, Regina decides on a simple: “You're welcome.”

When they arrive at the mines David directs them down the correct tunnel. “Henry's with Belle,” he says before Regina can ask. Part of her wants to chastise him for not consulting her before handing her son over to Rumpelstiltskin's girlfriend, but she lets it go. As much as she doesn't like the imp, he is now family and unlikely to hurt his grandson. The man does, apparently, value family. While naïve, Regina has to admit that Belle is a trustworthy woman who would do her best to protect Henry.

“What have the fairies found?” She asks as they approach Blue, Grumpy, and Doc at the end of a narrow passage.

“The Baku are moving into this world via fairy dust in this tunnel.”

“How is that possible?” Emma asks, pulling her long hair into a ponytail.

“A very good question, hopefully Miss High Fairy will be able to provide further explanation.” Striding right up to said woman, Regina is pleased to see that Blue breaks off the conversation she'd been having with Doc to direct her attention at Regina.

“Charming tells us the Baku are using your fairy dust as a portal.”

Although Blue is definitely offended she responds with only a little snipe in her voice. “Yes, that would appear to be the case. It is unusual, but the unpredictable nature of fairy dust makes such a thing possible. It was closely guarded by dwarves and fairies in the Enchanted Forest. Fairies are capable of utilising it most effectively for positive results but there are other creatures who can tap into its power as well. The Baku’s incorporeal form likely makes it easier for them to harness its potential.”

“If you say so,” Regina scans the surroundings then fixes Blue with another intense gaze, ensuring the fairy knows who's in charge with her body language. “So we need a barrier.”

“Something that will stop threats from getting through,” Blue agrees.

“How would we do that?” Snow inquires, Grumpy at her side.

“Could we neutralise the fairy dust?” Emma suggests.

The idea is born from a recent discussion they'd had in their lessons regarding ways to prevent spells from activating. Neutralising is the most effective way of ensuring nothing can reactivate them, but also requires a significant amount of energy. The more powerful the spell, the more energy required. In this case, however, since fairy dust is a source of magic, rather than created from it, neutralising would be impossible. Nonetheless, Regina is pleased that Emma is actively applying her knowledge. She derives further enjoyment from the reactions of Blue and the other residents of the Enchanted Forest.

“What?!” Blue's eyes nearly pop out of her head.

“You can't do that!” Grumpy and Doc exclaim together.

Snow and David have been rendered speechless, their resemblance to guppies threatening Regina's controlled composure.

“Why not?” Emma asks, flabbergasted.

“Fairy dust is a source of magic,” Regina explains, turning her head enough toward the blond that none of the others can see her amused smile. Unfortunately, Emma appears to get the impression she's being laughed at because her guard goes up.

“Well, what do you suggest?” She snaps, hands planting themselves on her hips.

Resisting the urge to sigh, Regina softens her stance a little. “We weave a barrier into the energy of the crystals. Crafting the barrier so that it prevents incorporeal entities from passing through. It will require some finite manipulation.”

“Mixing Emma's light magic with Regina's dark is essential to capturing the entire spectrum of magical entities,” Blue states.

“Why would we want to keep good entities out?” Grumpy demands.

“Even good magic comes at a price,” Blue responds. “Minimising our exposure to magical phenomena is the best way to ensure stability in Storybrooke.”

“Says the woman who wanted to keep mining fairy dust for a rainy day.” Regina chides. “If we'd sealed these caves in the first place we wouldn't have this problem.”

“Thanks to your curse, we're forced to do the best we can,” Blue states, her eyes hard. “Fairy dust is the only assurance residents have that they will be protected from threats, the most dangerous of which is already here.”

“Hey!” Emma commands, stepping between them.

 _Good thing too,_ Regina thinks. _Blue is one comment away from being bald._

“We can't start fighting one another. Anything that comes into Storybrooke is an enemy of us all.”

“Emma's right,” Snow confirms. “So Regina and Emma create a barrier.”

“That's not the difficult part,” Regina admits, refusing to look at Blue. “Once the barrier spell is woven it will need to be embedded in all crystals containing fairy dust. Given how extensive these caves are there could be hundreds of possible entry points to Storybrooke. Casting the spell on each patch is out of the question.

The only way we're going to ensure all crystals are covered is to incorporate it into all the caves. For that we'll need everyone who can use magic.” She pauses. “Except Rumpelstiltskin.”

“But he-.”

“Is still the Dark One,” Blue states. “We do not want to involve him unless it's absolutely necessary. Dark Ones are experts at turning situations to their personal advantage.”

“So, who's left?”

“Me and my fairies,” Blue responds. “The fairy dust we've stored will give us the power you both need to protect the area.”

Despite her mistrust of them, Regina has to admit that they need the fairies for this to succeed. “How long will it take you to get ready?” She asks.

“About an hour.”

“Emma and I will craft the spell. Return here as soon as you're ready.”

Glancing at Doc, Blue inclines her head at Regina then heads up the tunnel with the dwarf. Almost immediately Snow pounces on her daughter.

“Are you sure you're well enough to do this?” The woman's hands are gripping Emma' firmly.

“Of course. Regina and I can handle anything.” The blond does not look at her so Regina knows she must still have been offended by the earlier misinterpretation. Despite this, the brunette is pleased by Emma's confidence in their abilities.

_Not that I need affirmation._

“But you've hardly had any time to rest,” David says from his wife's side.

“And have you eaten?”

“As touching as this parental concern is I'm afraid I've got to interrupt. You will just have to trust that your thirty-one-year-old daughter is capable of caring for herself.” Striding to the far right corner of the tunnel, Regina brings to mind all the barrier spells she knows, summoning a couple of tomes to verify her knowledge.

A short time later – no doubt after having put more effort into quelling her parents' concerns - Emma joins her side. Regina's just identified one that will fit their needs perfectly when the woman speaks. “At least I have some experience with barrier spells.”

Glancing up, Regina notices Emma no longer seems upset. That's good. They'll need the spell-casting to proceed as smoothly as possible and disgruntled emotions never help. “Yes, although this will be beyond anything we've tackled in our lessons yet.”

“I meant what I said,” Emma's hands are in her pant pockets, her pose seemingly relaxed even as her gaze wanders like a restless puppy. “You and I can handle anything.”

Giving the Saviour a small smile, Regina replies. “I appreciate your confidence. It will help us with the spell work. However, don't lose sight of the details. We need to weave it correctly otherwise something could still get through.” Holding up the book she's been reading, Regina points out a section depicting two sets of six-coloured threads creating a complex pattern.

“This is the spell we'll be weaving. It's complicated because you must hold six separate spells and weave them together with another six. The types of spells and the pattern they're woven in makes the final spell impossible to break. The only way to do so is for one of the two original castors to unweave their section. Understand?”

“Yes.” Emma is looking pensive but determined.

Closing the book, Regina sends it back to her vault then draws a visual representation in the air. “This is how it will work...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters are uploaded once a week (Sunday).


	12. Disheveled

_~Emma_

All things considered Emma should have suspected something when she had that dream about Regina over a month ago. It's not like she hasn't always seen the brunette as an attractive woman. Regina has an excellent sense of style; pairing outfit, make-up, and body language to influence those around her. She's never been immune to Regina's physical presence but the woman's attractiveness had always been downplayed by surrounding drama. Concern for Henry, Mary Margaret, the town – she'd barely had a moment to breath since entering Storybrooke.

_I may have avoided the curse that brought everyone here, but am apparently the victim of one that ensures I'm attracted to impossible matches._

Glancing at said brunette, Emma takes particular care to ensure her thoughts are not being communicated through action. She does not need Regina realising she's attracted to her. Emma needs to act normal – whatever that is for her and Regina's relationship.

The woman is currently studying the barrier spell in preparation for their first casting attempt. She's spent nearly ten minutes memorising each of the six spells in the pattern. 

“Once I've mastered each I will be able to teach you,” she'd said, the assurance of her stance and voice simultaneously increasing Emma's confidence and nervousness. Nervousness because she'll probably disappoint Regina. Prior to realising her attraction for the brunette this would not have significantly bothered her, but now the prospect makes her heart sink.

_I am definitely in a lot of trouble._

As she watches the familiar line of concentration form on Regina's brow, Emma tries to determine when the realisation occurred. She'd passed out in Regina's spare bedroom, woke several hours later, retrieved a coffee and sent Regina to bed. Smiling at the last action, since she never would have imagined such a thing being necessary, Emma continues mapping out her thoughts while in Regina's house.

 _I flipped through TV channels, monitoring Regina through our magical connection. When she began waking I went to make us pancakes._ She'd seen Regina in the dark doorway while mixing the batter then most of her attention had turned to the stove. _I'd known she was in her robe, under which were pajamas of some kind. It was when she came to stand beside me that I felt -._

Emma's been making an effort to analyse the sequence of events as scientifically as possible, but the memory still elicits a shiver of desire. Disheveled Regina is sinfully good-looking. Her eyes had been clear and alert, stance comfortable, hair tousled in semi-wild waves – the dark robe loosely wrapped about her form revealing a slender neck and the gleaming skin of her upper chest. Nothing inappropriate had been on display, yet Emma thinks this 'at home' Regina is the most beautiful person she's ever seen. 

After that she'd been unable to see the woman as simply a friend, teacher, adoptive mother to Henry, or ex-Mayor. She is all those things in the form of a woman Emma now wants to touch. She imagines gently running her fingers through the thick locks of Regina's hair, inhaling the scent that permeates the woman's house, yet she's never really noticed before. Losing herself in the intensity of those dark, alluring eyes.

 _Yes, this is very bad_.

“It's time to get started,” Regina's voice breaks through her introspection.

Surprised, Emma takes a step back, away from the woman who is now directly in front of her, the heel of her boot catching on a protruding rock. One of her hands whips out – and suddenly she's in the brunette's arms, the scent she's been dwelling on filling her lungs.

“Oh, uh, thanks.” Quickly righting herself, Emma lets go of Regina, plastering a grin on her face. “Clumsy me.”

Regina's arched brow causes Emma to stop the anxious teasing of her hair, the blond shoving both hands into her pockets. “You've got the spells?”

“I do.” The questioning expression does not immediately fade from Regina's face but her attention shifts to the more pressing matter. Eager for a distraction from thoughts and feelings she doesn't know how to handle, Emma throws her energy into creating the spells Regina outlines. Unfortunately, her jostled emotional state makes the spells less stable than they'd both like.

“Don't let your concern impede the spell work, Emma.” Regina's voice is low, miraculously containing more comfort than irritation. “We'll erect this barrier and Storybrooke will be safe again.”

 _So that's what she thinks I'm nervous about._ Relief slithers through Emma's body. _I can work with that._

“Sometimes it's hard to believe something... even when you know it's true.” Emma has avoided meeting Regina's gaze during their practising but she makes a point of doing so now to illustrate her sincerity.

The blond smiles when her response seems to ease Regina, the woman's expression softening as she continues demonstrating. “I know. It's been an exhausting day, and believing when the odds are against you is the most difficult challenge.” The brunette's lips twitch, then lift into a smile that has Emma's heart doing very unnatural palpitations. “I find very little to recommend Blue and her fairies, but they do know how to use magic. With their power behind us we'll be able to stop any more monsters from threatening our town.”

Emma's smile widens, daring to put a hand on the other woman's arm. “Thank you, Regina. You give the best pep talks.”

Amusement flashes so quickly across the brunette's face Emma almost doubts seeing it. “I don't know about that, but I've had some practice with Henry. He'd have days when the world seemed bent against him, even before he suspected I was the Evil Queen.”

“I could never have been the mother he needed.” The words are out of her mouth before Emma's realised they're forming. “Sometimes... I wonder what it would have been like, but I wouldn't change any of it.” Her gaze is caught in Regina's, the air seeming to grow thicker as everything except the other woman's intensity fades from her awareness. “Henry needed you... and you needed him. I – I'm glad he was adopted by you, Regina.”

The raw feeling in her companion's features causes Emma's breath to catch, hazel eyes shifting to look farther down the tunnel. The warmth of Regina's appreciative smile means more than any words and part of her is relieved when they return to practising. In fact, the admittance seems to have stabilised her emotions so that the spells form with the grounded strength they'd previous lacked. Gradually, Regina begins weaving her own versions among Emma's, the two women extending their focus to a small cluster of crystals in a shadowy nook above their heads.

Now that her concentration is restored Emma finds the most challenging aspect to be holding all the spells while weaving them into a cohesive whole. Since Regina has experience with advanced spell weaving, Emma mostly focuses on holding the threads together, occasionally nudging her magic into tighter bonds with Regina's. 

At first she worries that her revelation about being attracted to Regina might be transmitted to the brunette through their shared magic, but the concern is quickly invalidated. Emma can't feel any of Regina's emotions or thoughts as they work so it's reasonable to assume Regina won't be able to deduce any of hers. Regina's attitude toward her doesn't change either, shifting from supportive teacher to impatient companion as it always has. The normalcy between them soothes Emma enough that she can put away her feelings for later examination.

“There, how does it feel?” Regina inquires. A light sheen is visible on her brow. Otherwise, she looks as vibrant and in control as usual.

“Good. Strong.” Concentrating a bit harder brings the weave into clearer focus: a complicated pattern of multi-coloured threads each with a purpose, each born of magic from a different source that hums peacefully against the other. “It's... beautiful.”

Opening her eyes to orient herself in the physical, Emma smiles warmly at Regina, a wave of affection rolling forth. “It's incredible how well magic from such different backgrounds can work so harmoniously together.”

The observation causes Regina's eyes to slide away. “Yes, well, we've worked very closely for nearly a month. It stands to reason that our magic would be familiar.”

Emma gets the sense Regina is holding out on her but lets it go when Mary Margaret, David, and Leroy approach.

“How's it going?” One of her mother's hands is clutched tight, doe-like eyes looking between them hopefully.

“I think we're ready.” Regina replies, exchanging a nod with Emma.

“Blue says they'll be here in a few minutes.” David states, wrapping Emma in a spontaneous one-armed hug.

“Hey, what's that for?” Embarrassed, Emma glances between a smiling Mary Margaret, grinning Leroy, and unimpressed Regina.

“I'm so proud of you.” He places a kiss to her head before letting go. His smile sends warming tendrils of happiness through Emma's body.

Blinking back tears, she tries to infuse all the love and appreciation she feels for her parents into an expression. “Thank you.”

“Do either of you need anything from us?” Mary Margaret asks, squeezing Emma's left hand.

“The more support we have around us the better the casting will go,” Regina replies. “If you want us to succeed we can use your energy.”

“We can be supportive!” Mary Margaret nods emphatically. “Also, do you need any water?”

Leroy barks a laugh which earns him a glare from Regina.

“I think some hydration would also benefit our cause.” The brunette takes the offered bottle, somehow managing to look regal even drinking from cheap plastic.

Accepting one from David, Emma makes a valiant effort not to stare at Regina's slender neck. The sound of people approaching makes the brunette straighten and assume a neutral face. She is moving away when David speaks.

“Regina.” Reluctantly – the subtle twitch at the corner of her mouth giving away her impatience – she shifts back to look at him. “We – Mary Margaret and I – want you to know that we also support you. Not just here.” He and his wife share one of their meaningful looks. “The townspeople may not see the new Regina, but we do.”

“And we love her.” Mary Margaret asserts. Her mother's gaze briefly flicks from the brunette to Emma then back. The tears that had manifested after David's embrace nearly spill over as Emma mentally thanks her parents. Regina needs all the support she can get. The woman has come a long way on her own, but having someone believe in you – caring about you – makes all the effort worthwhile. This new Regina accepts the words with a sober nod and Emma thinks, just maybe, part of her might believe them.

“We're ready,” Blue says once she's reached them, the rest of the nuns hanging back.

“Good. Regina and I are, too.” Emma declares confidently.

“Since we're relatively central in the caves this should be a good place to cast,” Regina states, glancing at all the occupants. “I'm sure you know the mood that must be fostered.”

“Indeed.” Blue inclines her head, holds Regina's look for a few seconds, then says. “Thank you for helping us.”

Emma notes the tension lacing along Regina's jaw, but the brunette only hesitates a moment before answering. “You're welcome.”

 _At least I can say one thing in favour of magical drama_ , Emma thinks, amusement mixing with sincerity, _it brings people together._

Blue rejoins the fairies, orchestrating their arrangement while Emma and Regina direct their attention to a large collection of crystals in the upper right-hand side of the cave.

“Now I fear for the success of our enterprise,” Regina's silken voice comes out of nowhere, causing Emma to withdraw from the magic-induced trance she'd been preparing.

“What?!” Panic rising in her breast, her full attention locks on Regina.

The reaction causes a playful smirk, an expression Emma doesn't think she's ever witnessed, to form on her companion's face. “I've always thought the world would end if the Blue Fairy expressed any form of gratitude to me.”

Relief and amusement have Emma laughing freely. “Can't deny that I thought any differently.” Thankfully, she catches her hand before it's reached Regina's. Holding hands is definitely not in their repertoire of 'normal' activities.

Keeping the joy in her mind and heart, Emma pulls forth her magic, combines it with the external nearby, and begins weaving her six spells. When the collection is shimmering bright and resilient in her mind's eye she reaches for Regina and the two are soon weaving a pattern stronger than their previous. Incorporating the fairies' power requires more intense effort than the spell itself. Their willingness to participate eases the channels of connection, but it's the presence of her parents' positive energy that Emma finds most helpful.

As Regina struggles to add the fairies' contribution to their weaving, Emma draws Mary Margaret and David's strength along the bonds, their presence acting like glue to hold the various brands of energy together. The immensity of power hovering and coalescing around her is unfathomable. Seeing it as a whole entity and maintaining the casting are impossible, but as she works on each finite piece Emma feels the weight of its intensity.

She and Regina have never handled so much before and fairy magic seems to bring its own characteristics, somehow lighter and freer than the unformed magic she's learned to harness. The passive magic in Storybrooke lingers by magical constructions, waiting to be used. In contrast, fairy magic has a will of its own driven toward growth and good feelings.

Once the fairies' magic is tightly interwoven with their pattern, Emma and Regina will it outward, easing it into the walls, ceiling and ground around them.

 _Seek out all possible entries from the Enchanted Forest,_ Emma tells it, _protect us from possible threats._

The entire process takes almost two hours, but Emma only finds that out the next day. The casting's completion comes suddenly as her awareness reaches its limit. She can feel her exhausted body from a distance, yet it takes a backseat to the sense of peace pulsating from the spell around her. It promises safety and, unlike countless previous places she's been told fit that description, Emma knows the spell is telling the truth. So long as it remains, held together by the magic of an ex-Evil Queen, a Saviour, fairies, and the sovereigns of a foreign land, no threat can ever use the crystals to threaten her home again.

Pulling out from the web she'd help create is like walking through mud, but eventually Emma is gazing at a jagged rock wall, subdued chatter at her back. Leaning forward, she places her weight against the cave, rubbing an arm across her eyes. All she wants is to fall into bed and sleep for a year. Despite this, Emma does not feel as bone-weary as she had after dealing with the Baku. Somehow, the fairies seem to have ensured she did not over extend her own energy reserves.

Tilting her head, Emma sees Regina bracing herself against the same wall, face taut with concentration. _Trying not to show how much this has affected her,_ Emma deduces. Before the blond can say anything Mary Margaret speaks from somewhere nearby.

“Time to get you ladies home.”

Regina stands up straighter, turning to face the woman. No amount of acting can effectively hide how exhausted the brunette is. The haggard look on Regina's face shocks Emma into higher alertness.

“Let's get her home now.” One arm is around Regina's back and steering her out of the cave before her companions have a chance to reply.

“I'm fi-.”

“You are not, now let me help you.”

Regina does not say anything more as she's guided into the passenger seat of her car. Emma knows she's in no state to drive. Thankfully, it only takes one look at David for the man to extend his services. When she realises what is happening the brunette once more attempts to object but Emma's determination and David's promises to drive carefully silence her protests.

The poor woman has, apparently, used up what remains of her strength arguing since she's silent the rest of the car ride. If she'd had less experience with Regina Emma might have thought the woman had fallen asleep in the backseat. She'd lost the battle with her body on retaining a dignified pose, Regina's head lying on the head rest, bouncing with each movement. David is fooled, taking the opportunity to examine the brunette more intently. Emma knows Regina would never sleep in such vulnerable circumstances. No matter how tired she is, the woman would pull enough external magic into herself to stay awake.

Regina doesn't trust people, a trait they both share. People disappoint you. One can only truly rely on themselves.

 _Well, that's what I'd always thought. I seem to be relying more and more on Regina these days. I think she might even be doing the same._

The woman had slept when Emma prompted. Regina'd felt safe in her house, but Emma had still been an unpredictable element. The thought that Regina might really trust her makes Emma giddy, yet some of that could probably be attributed to her need for sleep.

David promises to take care of Henry as he helps them up Regina's front steps. How they make the journey upstairs is a mystery. All Emma remembers later is that she ensured Regina was in bed before collapsing into the guest room down the hall.

 _I certainly hope that's the most excitement we have for a while,_ Emma thinks before dropping like a stone into the well of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters are uploaded once a week (Sunday).


	13. The Announcement

_~Regina_

This time it's Regina who's cooking breakfast when Emma walks into the kitchen. The brunette has short changed herself on sleep, but she'd been determined to re-establish some boundaries in her house. The past forty-eight hours have disrupted a routine she's become very comfortable with and Regina never enjoys losing control.

The Saviour's presence is strange, yet not uncomfortable, which is something she's thankful for. It is, however, very inappropriate. Emma had kindly stayed with her, even though she'd looked frightful, but with the caves now protected it was time to get back to normal.

“Morning,” Emma says with a sleepy smile as she enters, her hair up in one of the messiest ponytails Regina's ever seen. The blond obviously slept in her clothes which are wrinkled, in disarray, and do nothing to improve her image. Despite all this Regina finds herself smiling, a pleasant warmth spreading out from her chest even as she becomes more determined to put an end to all this nonsense. A life without order is a dangerous existence.

“Sleep well?” Flipping the omelette cooking before her, Regina bends over to check the croissants in the oven. The sound of a slipping stool brings her instantly upright only to see the Saviour regaining her footing, both hands on the island to steady herself. The woman's face is a dark shade of red.

“I – yeah, needed the sleep. It was good.” Carefully placing herself on the stool, Emma looks anywhere but at Regina.

“Careful what you wish for,” Regina chides as she turns back to the stove.

The non sequitur draws Emma's attention. “What do you mean?”

“Now that you have magic you need to be careful what you wish for. If you wish with enough force you might make it come true.”

Glancing behind her, Regina sees that Emma is still confused. Sighing, she rotates, folding her arms over her apron-clad chest. “When embarrassing things happen the desire to escape is very strong. I just want you to remember that your feelings have power so you should control your reactions.”

“A lesson before breakfast?”

“There's no better time.” When Emma's graced her with a small smile Regina serves the food. Despite how famished she must be Regina is pleased to see the blond making an effort to eat politely, cutting her omelette with a fork and knife then chewing several times before swallowing.

The conversation centers around what happened first with the Baku then the barrier spell. Emma's knowledge about the theory of spell casting and magic use is now robust. So long as she has books and a desire to learn she could teach herself almost any spell. Emma is, however, the type who learns best through direct application. There is much they can still work on, but if a magical threat comes about and she is not around, Regina knows Emma at least stands a chance against it. The knowledge is heartening.

“What are you going to do now?” Emma asks as she tucks the drying towel back on its rack.

Regina twists the plug out of the sink and gives a nonchalant response. “Kick you out of course.”

The crestfallen look that crosses Emma's face makes Regina regret her words, but they do have to get back to their own lives. She cannot get used to the Saviour in her house.

“Oh, of course.” Emma says, immediately heading for the front door.

Regina finds herself on the other woman's heels, watching as she puts her boots on.

“Thanks for breakfast.”

“Emma.”

“I'll see you later, maybe.”

“Emma Swan.”

The full address makes Emma glance up, her sad expression adding weight to Regina's guilt. Hands planted on her hips, Regina sighs and takes a step closer. “I'm sorry I was rude. We have to get back to how things were before this mess started. The town needs to see that there's no more threat and restoring normalcy is the best way.”

“Yeah.” Emma is facing her yet seems to be looking past rather than at Regina. “I should get to the Station. See if there's been any other excitement.”

Resisting the urge to shake the blond, Regina inclines her head, opens her mouth to say something then shuts it again as Emma closes the door. Running a frustrated hand through her hair, Regina storms back into the kitchen. She'll check on Henry then make those damn pies.

_ Why does my relationship with Emma always feel like two steps forward and one back? _

* * *

Regina is setting up her pies on a stand in the school gymnasium when a nervous voice addresses her. Expecting it to be one of the teachers, Regina puts on a smile and turns toward the speaker. Instead, one of Blue's lackeys is gazing shiftily at her, wringing her hands. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes – she really has no patience for this – Regina softens her stance further. “How can I help you?”

“Oh, well, the Blue Fairy would like it if you'd join us for a thank you dinner.” The woman takes a breath, “your assistance was instrumental in ensuring Storybrooke's continued safety. Please allow us to showcase our gratitude by attending this Sunday at 7pm.”

What's the girl's name? Regina searches her foggy memory of the Baku event. There'd been so many girls then, and most hadn't been conscious.

“Sister Sarah,” Regina says, making her voice firm yet gentle. “I appreciate the invitation. Ensuring Storybrooke's safety benefits us all. I must, however, decline as I am otherwise engaged.”

“Oh,” Sarah visibly gathers her nerves and Regina steels herself. Apparently her presence is important to Blue. “The Mayor will be present to extend formal thanks on behalf of the town and the Saviour will also be in attendance.”

Of course Emma and Snow will be there, that is expected. Normally this wouldn’t hold a lot of sway with Regina but the blond has been avoiding her since their cool parting yesterday. It’s only been a day, but Regina’s mind obsessively returns to her final encounter with the Saviour, replaying the events in the vain hope of deciphering what she’d done wrong. She's seen Emma around the school a couple of times so far and each time the woman ignored her. On top of that, the blond has cancelled their Sunday training session.

_ Meaning this event might be the only opportunity I get to talk to her _ . Talk to her and hopefully put their relationship to rights.

“Alright, I accept your invitation.” A bit more bite is in her voice now, but she does not regret the speedy retreat it elicits from the fairy.

One of the teachers arrives to help with set-up and the bake sale begins soon afterwards. Since she doesn't want her presence to compromise the sale's success, Regina’s stationed at one of the cash registers near the exit. The monotonous task allows her mind to go on autopilot, observing Henry and his classmates as they eagerly partake of the offerings followed by the Charmings, Red, and the dwarves. Regina is certain that everyone in Storybrooke has passed through by closing time – except Emma Swan.

_ Why am I always the one ruining things?  _ Regina thinks bitterly.

Thankfully, Henry's presence at home that evening prevents too much self-pity. He wants to hear all about the incident with the Baku and their casting which she recounts in detail, leaving out what would be the boring parts for him yet are the most interesting parts for her. Regina knows magic and using it, even alongside Emma and fairies, is not noteworthy to her. What had been is how Emma melted into her house almost as naturally as her magic did with Regina's.

A good deal of the time they'd been exhausted and not in the house very long, yet the brunette had actually enjoyed the other woman's company, not uncomfortable and put upon like she generally feels with house guests. Although Emma's courteous politeness had likely come more from nervousness at being in a strange place – 

_ My domain _ , Regina thinks, smirking.

– she'd still been Emma and without her… suddenly Regina’s kitchen feels lonely. She’s gotten accustomed to the feeling since Henry began spending more time away, but it was disconcerting how Emma’s absence seemed to have such a profound effect on her mindset.

“I really am going soft,” Regina mutters as she flips her coat on over her shoulders. The evening of the thank you dinner is not off to a good start. November’s weather has turned ugly, wet snow sloshing against her windshield and tires as she drives toward the town hall. A little magic makes it possible to drive but not any more pleasant.

Cinderella is watching Henry and his friends while she attends the gathering, leaving Regina well and truly free. For maximum effect, she's chosen a long black dress with red heels and matching silk scarf. A dazzling silver necklace sits against her throat, hair pulled on the left side of her head with a jewel-studded clip. The make-up on her face is more pronounced, drawing attention to her full mouth and dark eyes. Storybrooke presents few occasions to get so dressed up. Even now, she’s likely overdressed for this fairy event.

Despite this fact, Regina feels the need to assert her power in the town. Yes, she wants to be a more liked member of it, but she does not want to give up her status as a powerful woman. Just not an Evil one.

A water repellent magical shield keeps her outfit superb as she enters the hall. Just inside the door are two young women taking coats and names of arrivals. It only takes one look to get both of them bowing.

_ Ah, now I have missed that. _ Smirking, Regina pushes further into the building.

The main room is filled with tables and chairs, each seating six - jugs of water as the centrepieces. Regina hadn't really expected alcohol to be present but is disappointed nonetheless. A buffet is laid out against the far wall, filling the room with pleasing, though conventional, aromas. She’s not particularly early but, thus far, the only others present appear to be Jiminy, Snow, David, Geppetto, and the fairies. Said fairies are buzzing around the hall, putting the finishing touches on their dollhouse-esque tea party.

Blue catches sight of her at almost the same moment she sees the head fairy. The stony neutrality of her face says that she does not approve of Regina's attire. However, the woman still makes an attempt to welcome her, extending a personal greeting and brief itinerary for the evening before showing her to her table.

“Good evening, Regina,” Snow says cheerfully, although even her expression is hesitant as she eyes the brunette's impressive outfit.

“Good evening, Snow.” Regina's smirk turns into more of a sneer. Even in an unimpressive hall surrounded by cheap furniture and napkins shaped like flowers, the persona Regina carried in the Enchanted Forest asserts itself.

The shift in expression further unnerves Snow, a reaction that causes a flash of energy to travel through the brunette. She is treading a thin edge. If she lets herself fall any further into the mold she'll be the Evil Queen once more. Pulling herself back takes more force than she'd like to admit.

_ Old habits really do die hard, _ Regina muses, putting on a less threatening smile as Charming joins his wife's side.

“It's nice, what the fairies have done,” he remarks, eyeing Regina closely.

“Yes, it's good of Blue to publicly acknowledge the important role you both played in saving the fairies and protecting our town.” Snow pauses then plows on. “Thank you again, Regina. I honestly don't think we'd stand a chance in Storybrooke without your help.”

Taken aback by the woman's sincerity, Regina's response is a product of reaction rather than meticulous crafting. “Soon Emma will be quite able to handle any threat that arises.”

“Emma would not be where she is without you.” Snow looks at Charming who also speaks up.

“We don't know much about magic, but it seems like you and Emma are stronger together.”

Regina has no idea how to handle this conversation. Part of her wants to brush off their words, while the other wants to believe and relish them. Being appreciated is a new feeling, yet her exposure to Emma is steadily building her comfort level with and desire for it.

“It's like you balance each other.” Snow contributes, her smile full and genuine. “I'd say you've made protecting our family the norm.”

“Well, here's hoping our good relations continue,” Regina says, still not sure how to react.

“I can drink to that,” Charming states, picking a glass of water off the table.

“Me too!” Snow exclaims.

Accepting the glass her step-daughter offers, Regina toasts alongside the Charmings. As she's setting it down, Snow exclaims. “Emma!”

One calculated rotation later Regina is facing the hall's entrance. Emma is wearing a snug red dress under a fashionable black coat, hair spilling over her shoulders in golden waves. A thin silver necklace hangs against her collarbone, light eyeshadow and blush becoming visible as she moves deeper into the room. Regina doesn't think she's ever seen the Saviour in such high heels. Platform boots are the fanciest footwear she can recall.

_ Looks like I'm not the only one who over dressed. _

The brunette lets her eyes take in the sight of Emma as she approaches. The blond looks good. Perhaps she does have some sense of style. Emma must have seen her upon entering since her eyes deliberately avoid Regina, focusing on Snow, Charming, and then the room at large.

“You look beautiful!” Snow gushes, jumping to her feet and clasping her daughter's hands.

Charming smiles handsomely, exuding paternal pride.

“Thanks,” the blond replies, adorable the only description for the small smile she's wearing.

_ What have I gotten myself into? _ Being surrounded by so much sentimentality is almost physically suffocating, but Regina shakes off the cynicism. Regina Mills can suffer through a little sickening sappiness.

“You do look quite the picture, Miss Swan,” Regina states, willing the blond to look at her.

“Thank you, Regina. You're looking well yourself.”

_ As if you know, you've barely looked at me!  _ The drama queen in her wants to throw a tantrum involving fireballs and screaming civilians, but that wouldn't result in the consequences she's looking for.

“All was well at the Station?” She inquires.

“A few troublemakers took advantage of the situation, but they've been dealt with.” Emma seats herself and promptly engages Snow in a flippant discussion about the weather.

It's going to be a long evening. Strategically placing herself on the opposite side of the table, Regina ensures that the blond will have to look at her at some point, but even that cannot really be counted a victory.

As the evening drags on there are speeches from the Baku victims, Snow praises the tenacity of the fairies and Charming speaks of how Emma and Regina worked tirelessly to ensure everyone's ongoing safety. The gathering consists of about 60% of the town's adult population, an excellent turnout given the short notice. None of the speakers hold Regina's attention for long. That honour goes to the woman physically across the table yet mentally miles away from her.

_ Was I really that insulting? Emma is taking this payback a bit far. _

At least the Saviour looks at her, although only when she thinks Regina isn't aware. Since she can never properly catch her in the act Regina cannot begin to decipher what the blond might be thinking, but as the evening progresses Regina identifies several other people also interested in the Saviour's attention. Hook's eyes have barely left Emma since he arrived, his look a mix of hunger and resignation. Neal is also watching the blond, his expression more of concern than longing.

Emma hasn't spoken much of her ex or potential lover. When either man comes up in conversation she brushes the subject off or chuckles over a misadventure from their history. Why the Saviour has no romantic interest in them is not particularly interesting to her, yet Regina is glad that’s the reality. Neither man is a good match for Emma's independent yet caring nature. Regina knows from experience that a life without romantic entanglements is very rewarding so fully supports the blond's lack of partner.

_ At least I don't have to feel alone in being ignored, _ she chuckles darkly. 

Emma has limited herself to looking at only half the room to avoid seeing the two men. Regina once derived amusement from the Saviour's discomfort, a great deal of it in fact. Annoyingly, she does not feel the same satisfaction now. It is situations like this where she understands Cora's reasoning. Feelings and concern for others make life so much more complicated – and you more vulnerable.

That reasoning convinced her to follow the dark path for nearly a decade. She hadn't cared for anyone except herself, she'd been powerful and ruthless. The Evil Queen had successfully completed her magnum opus – a curse to guarantee the end of happiness for those who opposed her. She'd had twenty-eight years of living that victory, but had it made her happy?

No.

Only the moments with Henry, someone who relied on yet challenged her, had made life worthwhile. So, despite how she now feels about her dynamic with Emma, Regina realises she will be making up with the Saviour – again. 

_ At least I didn't try to kill her this time. _

Blue's speech causes the largest stir in the gathering. No one, certainly not Regina, could have anticipated exactly what the head fairy was going to say. Drivel about sticking together, the power of unity and love – that she'd expected. Then Blue follows it up with something truly shocking.

“I'm at pains to admit to you, the people I've sworn to protect, that I was mistaken about something of critical importance to Storybrooke.” She stops to ensure the room's attention is on her. The sudden shift in her speech means that she succeeds in capturing every single person.

“Our old home, the Enchanted Forest, was a place of blacks and whites – evil and good. I shaped my view and actions according to this creed, making small sacrifices where the circumstances demanded but ultimately remaining true to my morals. I tried to apply this creed to life here in Storybrooke thinking that, since we are all from the same origin, it would work as well here as it did there.

But Storybrooke is not the Enchanted Forest. Storybrooke is a new world with new creeds. Here, we exist on a gradient rather than a spectrum, shades of grey rather than black and white. While my intentions have always been to help you all, I must admit that they might not always have done so.

I tell you this to preface an announcement. The magical theory classes, postponed due to recent events, will go ahead as planned. The first scheduled session is next Friday. It will be held in this very room. Parents and children alike are encouraged to attend. The history, costs, and dangers of magic will be laid out for all to see. Questions will be accepted, although the right to not answer will be reserved. 

Magic is an extremely personal experience. How someone comes to it is often a difficult road ripe with chasms, misdirection, and sacrifice. This is why some questions may not be answered. Since I am a fairy, I have always existed in a magical reality and am able to speak to its history, application and costs. I cannot, however, speak to the experience of the general populous and those who've been introduced to magic for personal gain or protection. Many who use magic never intended to obtain it, but are forced through the will of external forces. I cannot speak to these experiences, but there are two women who can.”

Blue's silence gives the congregation a chance to deduce which two women are being referred to, a task that, admittedly, is not terribly difficult. With the room's attention now on her and Emma, Regina turns cold eyes on the head fairy. 

Of course she'd throw this at them rather than give them a choice in the matter. While she had already offered to participate in the lessons, this broadcast forces her hand. It's not a position Regina appreciates being put in. Perhaps that had been the point, perhaps after her flat-out refusal a month ago Blue thought the only way Regina would accept would be through public pressure.

_ As if I've ever cared what others think, _ she scoffs.

Not the general public, no. She still has little concern for their opinion, but Henry and Emma's are an entirely different matter. Then there is the part of Blue's announcement that's completely unexpected. The Saviour has never indicated she wanted to participate in these sessions, and until very recently had possessed virtually no magical experience. Given the Baku event and Emma's status in the community, however, Regina can think of several reasons why she'd be included.

She and Emma are foils to one another, they've come together to save Henry then the fairies and, by extension, the town. Those who fear her will find comfort in the Saviour's presence. Perhaps Blue even wants Emma present for her own peace of mind.

Glancing at Emma reveals that the blond is as shocked as she is by the announcement. That rules out the Sheriff's involvement in this turn of events. The Mayor, however, it's unlikely she hasn't been somehow involved. Snow meets her gaze head-on, the smile on her face luminous. Snow has never been good at keeping a secret but Regina has to admit that Mary Margaret is not half-bad. David gesturing for her to stand momentarily confuses the brunette then she realises the room has broken out in applause. 

What has spawned it she cannot guess - surely not the fact that the ex-Evil Queen and cupboard stowaway will be teaching magic alongside the head fairy.

Instinctively, she faces Emma who is looking as uncomfortable as she feels. So uncomfortable in fact that she forgets to ignore Regina, her deep green eyes locking with brown. The brunette is not sure whose magic reaches out first, but the initial contact prompts the other's to come forth.

No spell shapes the magic, its nebulous presence filled with cautious optimism. The scenario is not what they expected, but the outcome is what they'd been aiming for. That energy gives them the courage to stand together, acknowledging the polite response Blue's speech has elicited.

Regina is enormously thankful when it appears she's not expected to make a speech, resuming her seat as the fairies prepare to conclude the evening with a choral number. Halfway through the piece Emma stands, quickly gathers her belongings, then moves toward a door on the wall closest to their table. Since their location is against the far side of the room her escape is relatively inconspicuous, but one person is close on her heels.

“Leaving so soon?” Regina challenges, her voice shocking the blond into paralysis. Emma is three paces from an exit. The hallway they're standing in is a little used offshoot several dozen feet from any main thoroughfare. In short, the perfect place for an undisturbed chat.

“I've got an early shift,” Emma has resumed her frustrating inability to look directly at Regina.

“I may not have your superpower, but I'm also not dense,” Regina replies. “I... I wanted to apologise for how we parted. I shouldn't have been so unfeeling.”

“You already apologised. It's alright, I forgive you.” Shrugging, Emma turns to leave.

“It's obviously not.” Regina is not pleased by the strain in her voice, but damn if she doesn't want to make this right. “Please, Emma, you're my – friend. Whatever it is I've done, I want to fix it.”

Her honest response causes the blond to turn toward her. _ I suppose looking at my head is an improvement, _ Regina muses.

“It's not you,” she says calmly, almost dispassionately.

“Well tell me what's wrong then. Maybe I can help.”

“You just – it's this whole magic thing. I mean, when it was just you and me it didn't seem like such a big deal. Now, though, now we've saved the town and we're going to be part of the Blue Fairy's lessons, apparently,” Emma says, rolling her eyes.

“Yes, apparently we are,” Regina smirks, taking a step closer to the blond. “Did you suspect Snow might be up to something?”

“Mary Margaret? No, but, you think she was involved?”

“I know she was. Her eyes gave her away after Blue's announcement.” Regina can see Emma shifting nervously, although what might be causing it she cannot fathom.

_ She's never been afraid of me before. _

No, the nervousness isn't linked to fear, not directly at least. Regina knows the smell of fear and that is not part of Emma's current mood.

“She's craftier than she lets on.” Emma's smile is small but it gives Regina hope. Whatever is wrong they'll get through it together. That is what they do.

“Sometimes.” Smiling at the other woman, Regina adjusts the scarf around her neck and tries to think of something supportive to say. “The head fairy must think you're ready to impart your wisdom to the world.”

“I guess so, not sure why though. Everything I know you taught me.” Emma's sheepish yet trying to be confident attitude combined with her attractive outfit makes the compliment more meaningful than it otherwise might have been. Regina isn't sure how that makes sense but, for once, chooses not to overthink it.

“I merely helped lay the foundation. You discovered how to harness positive energy and create something I've never been able to.” Straightening the sleeves on her dress, the brunette shifts her attention to the bright red 'EXIT' sign above their heads. “You will continue to do beautiful things with your gift, Emma.”

After an extended silence Regina returns her gaze to Emma and sees moisture twinkling in the Saviour's eyes. A feeling, not exactly happy yet not exactly sad, rises into Regina's chest. Stepping forward, she takes Emma's hands and bestows the kindest smile she can. Yes, Blue likely wants the Saviour to play peacemaker between her and the ex-Evil Queen, but Emma has proven herself a capable woman and Sheriff, with and without magic.

Being unable to see the good in yourself is a state Regina is all too familiar with. No one deserves to feel the despair that comes with it, especially not someone who believed in her when everyone else had long since given up.

“You are a special person, Emma Swan. Never forget how worthwhile you are.”

Emma’s smile eclipses her previous ones with its radiant happiness. She does not shy away from the brunette, the two looking at each other fondly, with all the history behind them to support their affection.

“Thank you,” Emma whispers, finally lowering her eyes.

“I still have a lot to learn about this friendship thing,” Regina replies gently, resisting the urge to stroke Emma's cheek, “but I do know friends are always there for each other.”

“Yeah,” Emma coughs a little, letting her hands drop from between Regina's, “that's the odd thing about us. Even when we weren't friends we always had each other, maybe not to rely on, but I never doubted you'd be there when I woke up in Storybrooke.”

The comment is an odd one, yet Regina understands. Their friendship certainly hasn't come easily. Looking back she can acknowledge that she'd always liked something about Emma, even when she'd wanted her far away from Storybrooke and Henry. Sometimes she'd even liked and hated the same qualities in the blond.

“I guess it just shows how dynamic our relationship is.” The pleasant moment has passed, leaving in its wake an awkwardness Regina is not sure how to explain. Thankfully, Emma now seems able to look at her. “Do you still want to continue our lessons?”

“What?” The blond responds, her mind obviously not following Regina's trajectory.

“Now that we will be hosting sessions alongside Blue, you may not wish to continue our training.” Regina appears nonchalant, but knows she'll miss the time alone with Emma. “You now have a solid foundation from which to build. I can lend you books on aspects of magic or spells you're interested in. My direct involvement as instructor is no longer necessary.”

Emma is taken aback, the gears in her head visibly turning. _ I wonder what pros and cons she's weighing, _ Regina muses, summoning her coat and beginning to put it on. “You'll be busier than ever now, I'm glad to be able to give you some more time for... whatever you choose to do.”

“Regina, I-,” Emma stops her as the brunette turns to leave. “I want to continue our lessons. I... I just needed a day off after everything.” The look in Emma's eyes elicits that unnamed swirl of emotions in Regina. 

She is being sincere, that is not in doubt. It's this other layer to Emma that is affecting their relationship now that she can't identify. Complexity has marked their interactions from day one, but Regina had hoped some manner of stability now existed between them.

Evidently, fate is determined not to make life easier for her. At least it appears Emma Swan, the woman destined to break her curse, daughter of Snow White, mother of her beloved son, and proclaimed Saviour will continue being her ally in whatever the future holds.

Smiling at the blond, Regina inclines her head. “See you Wednesday then.” Emma's gaze follows her until a turn in the corridor breaks line of sight. All things considered, Regina feels the evening has been a success.

Now begins lesson planning with the Blue Fairy. Smirking, Regina avoids the milling crowd by teleporting herself directly into her car and spends the remainder of the night plotting how she can subtly get under the head fairy's skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters are uploaded once a week (Sunday).


	14. Mother and Daughter

_~Emma_

Emma'd tried so hard not to map the details of Regina's outfit at Blue's celebration and even harder not to think about what she had seen. Despite these efforts, she wakes with a light sweat on her skin and a burning nether region.

 _For fuck's sake!_ She swears vehemently, taking her frustration out on a defenseless pillow. _I will not give in, I will not give in!_

Experience has taught her that achieving orgasm is the only sure way to avoid sexual dreams and thoughts – at least for a time. A voice in her head eagerly reiterates this knowledge. 

_No, I will_ _not_ _masturbate while thinking about Regina_. Doing so runs the risk of further cementing this attraction she feels for the brunette which she definitely does not need.

Regina looks excellent in any outfit, even just pyjamas and robe – 

_No, stop – stop!_

Last night's ensemble, however, with the sleek dress, generous neckline, elegant scarf, flattering make-up – it had all been... Delicious. 

_God, now my life is a bad romance novel._

Releasing an exasperated sigh, Emma drags herself out of bed and steps into a pair of jogging pants. The only other way to silence her treacherous hormones is to exhaust herself in another physical way. Familiarity with the apartment allows her to move quietly down the stairs, fervently hoping that neither of her parents is a light sleeper.

_If they are, they'll get a taste of what it's like to have a teenager._

The attempt at humour only partially succeeds in lifting her mood. Last night’s celebration is not what started her down the path of self-deprecating realism. No, that honour goes to the breakfast two days ago. The breakfast that had begun so pleasantly.

Regina had only stated a fact, and in a light-hearted manner, but the thought of returning to normalcy now feels more like a burden than a relief. As is often the case when it comes to her feelings, Emma cannot find logic in them, only trace their progression across a timeline.

Since acknowledging her attraction to the brunette she's looked forward to when things could return to normal since that would give her boundaries in which to operate. Now that the time has come, Emma’s made the troubling discovery that 'normal’ is no longer satisfying. Crisis puts her and Regina firmly on the same team, forcing them to put aside petty differences. It lets them see aspects of each other that are usually hidden.

_We're both private people so a crisis is about the only time we can do that._

Their friendship is good, but when they're together there's always a purpose: teach Emma how to use magic, discuss Henry's progress at school, handle whatever issue is most pressing in the town. Crashing at Regina's, enjoying a slow start to the day and then a home cooked breakfast, had exposed Emma to another side of the brunette. The blond has always appreciated Regina's strength of character, but the longer the two spend together - the more comfortable they become with each other - the more Regina exposes her private side.

 _The secret Regina,_ Emma thinks, smiling to herself.

As her feet rhythmically hit the pavement she lets her mind wander, its focus tending toward a deduction of this 'secret' version of the ex-Mayor. The secret Regina is considerate, willing to talk frankly about a variety of more personal topics, utilises her wicked sense of humour more often, and, perhaps most intriguing of all, relaxes. Emma's caught glimpses of this woman in their sessions together, but never in a full capacity. In the familiar surroundings and security of her castle Regina lets herself loose.

This is why Emma no longer wants normalcy to return. She wants to see more of the Regina that no one else does – the independent, fierce, intelligence paired with humour, consideration and softness.

 _Packaged in a stunning body,_ the evil voice in her head purrs.

Picking up her pace, Emma pushes herself until her mind is void of thought and she’s almost unable to walk the last stretch back to the apartment. She's so taxed when she arrives that she fails to see Mary Margaret sitting on the stairs until she's almost stepped on her.

“Oh god, I'm sorry Mar- mom!” Emma self-consciously adjusts her jacket and hair, well aware of what a mess she is after her hard run.

“No harm done. Care for some tea?” The woman produces two mugs seemingly out of nowhere with a flourish that reminds Emma of Regina. 

_As if I need help thinking about her,_ the blond sighs.

“Sure, I usually go for a glass of cold water but hot will do.” Gently seating herself beside her mother, Emma accepts the offered beverage, its warmth easing into the tips of her fingers. “Couldn't sleep?”

“I was, until my maternal instincts told me my daughter might need a sympathetic ear.” May Margaret is gazing at her expectantly, the look an unsettling mix of innocence and seriousness.

“Oh, I'm sorry I-.”

“I don't need an apology. I'm only hoping I can help.”

“Why do you think something's wrong?” The idea of discussing her feelings for Regina with her mother, who is also Regina's step-daughter, is horrifying. She won't be able to deflect the woman forever, though. She is apparently too perceptive for that tactic. Thankfully, recent events give her several logical reasons for why she might be having trouble sleeping.

“We've lived together for over two years now and you do not make a habit of 2am jogs.” Mary Margaret's no nonsense attitude is strangely adorable.

 _My family's so messed up,_ Emma thinks fondly, _who in their right mind thinks their mother's adorable?_

“That's true. I was having trouble sleeping after – everything.” Taking a cautious sip of her tea – something herbal – Emma elaborates. “I don't think I've slept really well since dealing with the Baku, but tonight I was nominated to teach alongside a fairy and ex-Evil Queen.” Her attempt at humour only marginally distracts Mary Margaret from her concerned questioning.

“I would have thought you'd be happy. You wanted Regina to teach alongside Blue.”

“Yes, but not with me alongside them. I'm a novice!” Keeping her eyes locked on the wall across from them is safer than risking Mary Margaret uncovering uncomfortable truths. “Did you have anything to do with that?”

“A little,” the woman tucks her robe tighter around herself, a gentle smile brightening her face. “I may have pointed out how well you and Regina handled the Baku and how your involvement ensures our safety from any other monsters. Blue asked if it'd only been Regina teaching you and how you've been since the sessions started. I told her that you've never seemed happier and that Regina receives sole credit for your tutelage.”

“How'd she take that?” Emma is genuinely curious – and the tidbit about her seeming happier since the lessons began has also piqued her interest. Perhaps, rather than trying to get out of this conversation as soon as possible, she can use it to gain some insight into her situation.

“Compared to how she would have reacted – how she did react when we first suggested including Regina – surprisingly well.” Mary Margaret replies. Emma leans closer, somehow knowing she doesn't want to miss what's coming next.

“The Blue Fairy was impressed by you and Regina.” She continues. “She was watching you the whole time you were saving the fairies. I have no way to tell but she might also have been using magic to observe your actions in their minds. Regardless, after that she came to the conclusion that Regina has changed. I don't think she'll ever like her, they're very different people with a lot of bad history between them, but she is now capable of seeing beyond her legacy as the Evil Queen.”

“That is very good news,” Emma feels the response may have been robotic but she's trying not to jump to Regina's defense. Some may find the brunette difficult, but that's because she is deeper than most people. Whatever she does is done for a calculated reason. Her ability to feel deeply means keeping people at arms length so she doesn't get hurt. The difficult aspects of her nature are a challenge that, once passed, offer a friendship more rewarding than Emma's ever imagined friendship could be.

Drawing herself back from the internal tangent, Emma returns to the current topic. “Do you think Blue equates Regina's change of heart to me?”

Her mother thinks for a moment then nods. “I believe she's too traditional to do otherwise. Acknowledging our limitations is the first step to overcoming them, but when you've lived a certain way for so long patterns of thought are almost impossible to uproot, like a tree that's stood for hundreds of years.”

“Yes, I suppose fairies and trees are fitting comparisons.”

A warm hand on her back makes Emma stiffen.

“How are you and Regina?”

 _Oh god, what has she deduced?_ Emma wonders, trying to not to panic.

“Oh, well, you know Regina. She has good days and bad days.”

“Is that why you've been unhappy since Saturday?”

“We, uh, had a fight before I left. Nothing big, it just – we'd been getting on so well up till then that it threw me off I guess. Regina's not the same in our sessions as she is in public. She's..., well she's different, in a good way.” Embarrassed by her rambling, Emma withdraws into herself, hoping Mary Margaret will get the hint and not pry. Instead, the woman pulls her closer.

“I think I know what you mean. When I first met Regina she was not the Evil Queen. She was a kind-hearted, loving, energetic, and bright young woman. There was a desperation to her I didn't understand then, but she was not the step-mother I eventually lived with.”

Mary Margaret’s face clouds, her eyes looking beyond Emma to some place that brings her no happiness. “She had to... harden to survive. When the curse brought us to Storybrooke it gave her the opportunity to let go of some of her defensiveness. Adopting Henry brought out her softer side,” a gentle smile warms the woman’s features. “I remember when she first got him - she loved him from the first, but had to learn how to be a mother. He gave her a reason to rediscover the part of herself she'd hidden from the world, a world that had taken away her autonomy and convinced her love was weakness.”

Her mother pauses, the expression on her face once more pensive introspection. Emma never interacted with the pre-Storybrooke Regina, but can recognise aspects of the person Mary Margaret describes in the ex-Mayor. Some of that hardness asserted itself when she'd challenged Regina in their early days together. Having glimpsed the Regina beneath her hate and defensiveness, she can understand why the brunette reacted the way she had to Emma's threat.

_Henry was the only bright spot in her world and I threatened to take him away._

“Pride kept her going,” Mary Margaret continues, “retaining authority and destroying anyone who hurt her were her sole motivators. I gave her a chance to change once in the Enchanted Forest but she could never have been a different person there. It had made her the Evil Queen. Only here, in Storybrooke, could she be Regina.”

“But she still has to work at it,” Emma comments, placing her now empty cup beside her and tucking her hands against her body.

“Yes, I'm afraid she'll always have to, but the fact that she’s doing so means she's dedicated to it – for Henry, for the town, for herself.” Mary Margaret nods, her gaze returning once more to Emma. “I think Blue sees this and understands that we need Regina. We may feel like we’re in our insulated bubble here, but we could still be victims of whatever this world, or others, might bring.

With the town line reinforced to keep outsiders away and the caves preventing external threats from getting through we're safer than we've ever been, but there will always be something to threaten us - some power able to circumvent the defenses we've built.”

One of her mother’s hands takes hers, the light squeeze it imparts sending a tendril of warmth through Emma’s body. “Now that time is passing again in Storybrooke someday we adults won't be able to protect the town and that task will fall to our children. Maybe at some point we'll bring down the town line and become a true part of this world, but living in Storybrooke will never be the same as living in the Enchanted Forest or New York, or Boston.”

“You've thought a lot about this,” Emma remarks, laying her head on Mary Margaret's shoulder. Drowsiness is pulling at her awareness, the older woman's voice soothing her concerns into meaningless feelings.

“Well, we have to think of the future. Even if we could get back to the Enchanted Forest I... I don't think I'd go. We've built a new life here, one that's better, somehow truer. I – I've also been thinking...”

The change in Mary Margaret's tone makes Emma look up. “What is it?”

“Well, David and I never really got to raise you and we're not getting any younger..”

“You're thinking of having a baby?” Emma's mouth goes dry, the rest of her eerily unresponsive to the idea.

“No child could ever replace you,” her mother rushes on, hugging Emma closer. “It would just - be nice.”

“I understand, it's ok.” Swallowing, Emma awkwardly squeezes her mother back, wondering in passing what Regina would think. Thoughts of the brunette prompt her to say, “It'll be challenging, raising a baby as mayor of a magical town.”

“Yes, it's not the same as having servants to help with everything." Her mother's breath is soft against her ear. "That's why... I'm thinking of stepping down.”

Apparently 3am is the time for Mary Margaret revelations.

“You are?” Emma splutters, sitting back. “I - I thought you liked running Storybrooke.”

“I like helping people, I don't have to be mayor to do that.” The other woman responds, gazing thoughtfully at nothing in particular. “I became mayor out of necessity more than choice. When our memories returned everyone looked to me, even more than David, for a sense of purpose and security. I couldn't disappoint them.

I've done well enough but, if I'm honest with myself, the town is not as well-run as it was under Regina's leadership.”

A chuckle escapes Emma. She clearly remembers Regina's no nonsense way of handling projects and people. She hadn't been particularly liked, but she had gotten jobs done, and done well. “She did know how to run a tight ship.” Realising that the naval reference might turn their conversation to the subject of Killian, which she's successfully managed to avoid for the past several weeks, Emma rushes on. “Would we have an election then?”

“I don't see why not. If she wants to, I would even encourage Regina to run. She did well for twenty-eight years and ran a kingdom before then. If these classes she hosts alongside Blue go well then she may even win. It's taken some time, but people's attitudes are shifting. Blue's endorsement will go a long way in helping, now she just has to continue being the Regina we both know. If she does that, well, she may find she enjoys interacting with the rabble.” Mary Margaret's grin is interrupted by a yawn.

“That's enough deep discussion for today,” Emma smiles, the expression somewhat goofy due to her exhaustion.

“Do you think you'll be able to sleep now?” Her mother asks, running a hand down her back.

“Yes, thank you for the tea. And for the talk.” As much as she'd been dreading it, the conversation has made Emma feel better. Whether or not it helps with the dilemma of her complicated feelings for the ex-Mayor will be determined when she's not nearly passing out.

“Good night, Emma,” Mary Margaret enfolds her in a strong, warm embrace. Their hugs are still awkward sometimes, but Emma finds part of her can't get enough of them.

“Good night, Mom,” she responds affectionately, kissing the woman's cheek.

The two part at the loft stairs, each falling almost instantly into a comfortable sleep.  
  


* * *

  
Later that day when Emma arrives at the Station, Ruby is leaning against the Sheriff's desk, a bag of greasy bear claw donuts clutched in one hand and a steaming coffee in the other.

“What's the occasion?” Emma inquires, grinning at her friend. Normally Ruby only works morning shifts at the Station but here she is, waiting for the exchange of posts between David and Emma. That means she has something interesting to discuss. While Emma suspects it's about her she's feeling so good after her sleep that the prospect elicits more excitement than anxiety.

“To congratulate you on your new calling – assistant teacher to Mother Superior and Regina Mills: Leader of the Fairies and Evil Queen.”

“When you put it that way you make me think I should seek mental help.” Accepting the drink and sweets, Emma sits herself beside Ruby on the edge of the desk and takes out a doughnut.

“Archie wouldn't be any help, he's as crazy as the rest of us,” Ruby chuckles, the sound refreshing in its gayety. Very little humour has existed in Emma's life of late and she's sorely missed it.

“Are you here for the dirty details of the arrangement?”

“The dirtier the better, although I'm more interested in your private exchange with Regina last night.”

Hot coffee nearly comes rushing out her nose, the blond coughing hard to try and ease the pain. Having salvaged some of her dignity, she determinedly ignores the knowing look her red-haired friend is directing at her. 

She should have suspected Ruby would pick up on something. When it comes to relationships the woman is like a bloodhound on the scent. Nothing pleases Ruby more than speculating about the trials and developments of Storybrooke partnerships. If anyone is going to pick up on her feelings for Regina, it's Ruby. Thankfully, her friend has not seen them interact much since Emma's revelation. Last night's celebration was the first.

“After casting the barrier spell we fought then parted. I wanted to escape the awkwardness of the celebration and she caught up with me to apologise.” Emma takes a bite of her treat, positioning the garbage can between her feet to catch any crumbs.

“Oh well, that explains it then.” Ruby sounds so satisfied that Emma believes her, reaching around to locate the briefing David would have left on her desk. She's only finished the first sentence when Ruby speaks again. “So, what's it like to sleep with Regina?”

This time the coffee topples sideways onto Emma's desk, its hot, fragrant contents rapidly ruining the stack of papers sitting there.

“Ruby!” Emma exclaims, turning her head in the hopes that her loose hair will hide the beet red colour of her face. In retrospect, she probably gave herself away with the reaction and is only wasting time pretending. That realisation is prevented in the moments that follow by the timely arrival of the last person Emma wants to see.

“Miss Lucas,” Regina's intense gaze fixes itself on a frozen Emma, hands full of stained paper towels. “Miss Swan.” The words are heavy with disapproval.

Heart stuck in her throat, Emma looks to Ruby for support. Her so-called friend shrugs. “It's not my fault you're clumsy.”

Letting out an exaggerated groan, Emma throws the towels she's holding into the garbage and reaches for more.

“Oh for goodness sake!” Regina spits, “you have _magic_!”

One exaggerated hand gesture later Emma's desk is coffee-free, the ruined papers once more in pristine condition, stacked neatly in several piles.

 _Probably sorted by felony,_ a voice whispers in Emma's head.

Despite her embarrassment, watching Regina perform magic is always enjoyable and Emma finds it's easier to laugh off her feelings. Given the reaction she could have gotten, a frustrated outburst and clean desk is a pretty positive outcome.

“Thanks,” Emma says, chancing a small smile at Regina.

“I have no idea how this town has not become a cesspool of crime if it's Sheriff cannot maintain order in her own office.” The words lack any bite and Emma can see the smile in Regina's eyes. The brunette has offered another olive branch.

 _She must really want to mend our friendship._ The deduction makes Emma unreasonably happy. Taking a step around the desk, she leans her left hip against it and graces Regina with a cheeky grin. “To what do I owe the honour of your presence?”

“Before Friday's magical theory class its three instructors should meet to iron out the curriculum and technicalities. Since you and I have already cleared Wednesday afternoon for our magic lesson it makes sense to host it then, if that suits you?”

Not having Regina to herself is a disappointing notion but Emma also wants to establish what exactly they are doing. That way, hopefully the residents of Storybrooke will not be subjected solely to a lesson on how creatively Blue and Regina can torment each other. “Wednesday's fine.”

Regina's eyes scan Emma's attire from head to foot, taking in the seasonal sweater, skinny jeans, and high boots. The inspection takes less than a second, yet Emma's body responds with a flush of heat.

_Does Regina like what she sees?_

“Splendid. We will meet in the town hall at 1pm on Wednesday. I suggest wearing something that's easy to move around in.” Turning on her heels, the coat over her shoulder spinning with her, Regina sashays out of the office. Nearly a whole minute of silence passes after the front door closes behind the brunette and, unsurprisingly, Ruby is the one to break it.

“Wow. I'd forgotten how commanding she can be.”

“Yeah,” Emma agrees, seating herself at her desk and tucking the remaining bear claws in the bottom drawer.

Leaning forward, both hands on the stacks of paper Regina just tidied, Ruby captures Emma's gaze.

“I'll never understand how you can be friends with her. I mean, she is a gorgeous woman, anyone with eyes can see that, but she is a tough lady.”

“Regina's had to be strong. She's had a lot of bad people in her life.”

“Strong and evil are two very different things.”

“Look, she may have done terrible things in the Enchanted Forest but she's not that person anymore,” the rush of anger on Regina's behalf takes Emma by surprise. It propels her to her feet, face inches from Ruby's. “She has to live with what she's done, but she's overcoming the mold she was shaped to and becoming Regina again. If we always see her as the Evil Queen that's who she's always going to be.”

“I know.” Ruby's calm response diffuses Emma's anger.

“You do?”

“Yes. The woman who just left is wearing the guise of the old Regina, but she's not the same woman. She wasn't the Evil Queen when we came to Storybrooke and she hasn't been the all-controlling Mayor since you broke the curse.” Straightening, Ruby plants her hands on her hips and gives Emma a serious look. “However, she is still a challenging and complex person. I want you to be careful.”

“Of course I will be.” Sitting down again, Emma looks inquisitively at her friend.

“And if you ever need to talk about anything, I'm here.” Ruby's gaze is piercing making Emma suspect that she's hoping for some kind of admittance. Whatever she's looking for she has decided to let Emma come to her with it, a decision that the blond is enormously thankful for. She intends to take her feelings for Regina to her grave.

“I appreciate that, Ruby. Thank you.”

“Take it easy, Saviour,” Ruby says as she reluctantly moves toward the office doorway, “I expect a good show on Friday.”

An unintelligible noise leaves Emma's mouth. Thinking about Wednesday, and the Friday that will follow, has her nerves strung taught.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters are uploaded once a week (Sunday).


	15. Friendly Drinking

_~Regina_

Arriving in the hall before Emma and Blue lets Regina get the metaphorical high ground. The fairy had shared her lesson plans the day after the celebration, lesson plans that are now littered with comments. There'd been far too much surrounding the power of love magic. Yes, its inclusion is important, but their audience needs balanced exposure to the subject. Expecting love to protect or save them from whatever might occur is idiotic and dangerous.

While she's kept personal anecdotes to a minimum, Regina's also included stories Rumpelstiltskin shared with her along with some of her experiences as a student and user of magic. The first session will largely deal with magic's possible origins, but Regina intends to get to the risks and traps of magic in lesson two. Hopefully the imp who owns the pawn shop will be placated if their initial session handles innocuous details.

The man will be present, it’s in his best interests to be, but perhaps he'll only send his misguided son or naïve girlfriend to future sessions. Regina is not as gifted at subterfuge as Rumpelstiltskin, but she’s confident in her ability to impart important knowledge to his two spies without the full implications being consciously passed along to the imp.

The far more difficult challenge will be convincing Blue that her changes are in the best interests of the town. The fairy will not agree with her on at least a dozen points and will want to keep the sometimes gruesome details from her charges, but truth - the gritty, horrific and heart-breaking kind – is the best way to ensure no one makes the same mistakes she has.

_ She particularly won't like the part about not trusting anyone,  _ Regina contemplates, mind wandering to a previous conversation with a certain blond.  _ Trust no one but think the best of them.  _ Yes, perhaps that's how she'll word it.

Emma and the Blue fairy enter together right on time. Pushing off from the stage, Regina approaches them, putting on her best encouraging smile. For Emma it would have been genuine, but with Blue present, it probably looks more suspicious than encouraging.

“Thank you both for accepting my offer,” the fairy says immediately, not looking the least bit happy.

“We appreciate you including us,” Regina responds smoothly.

“Did you get my curriculum?”

“I did. I've added a few recommendations I feel we should discuss.” Leading Blue over to a desk near the stage, Regina meets Emma's gaze and winks. The blond's answering smile lifts some of the dread that's settled in her stomach.

An hour and a half later Regina finds herself thankful for just one thing about the Blue fairy – her decision to include Emma in the magical theory lessons. The Saviour is the only reason they've accomplished anything. Blue and Regina have fought on nearly every point, stubbornly refusing to give ground. Emma's pragmatic compromises have not made either woman perfectly satisfied, but have enabled progress. Finally, with the outline of two lessons finalised and an idea of how each will be facilitated, the torturous planning session comes to an end.

Having bid the head fairy a barely polite goodbye, Regina turns her attention to slipping on her coat, scarf, and gloves, still seething over some of the woman's remarks. A hand on her shoulder pauses the spiraling thoughts.

“Hey,” Emma says softly. She's already dressed for the outdoors, a small supportive smile on her lips. Emma is still exhibiting some hesitation toward her, but the blond seems to be trying to put whatever is causing it behind her. “Want to go out for drinks? After that - I know I need one.”

Regina's first impulse is to use one of half a dozen excuses that jump to mind and decline. Then she truly considers the offer. “Alright, I'd like that.”

“Great! Why don't you take your car home and I'll pick you up? Then we only have to leave one car in the parking lot.” Halfway through Emma must realise how much like a date this suggestion sounds because her words speed up, a light flush tinting her pale cheeks. 

Chuckling, Regina pulls her keys out of her pocket. “See you at my place in ten minutes.” The brunette is still smiling over Emma's expression as she pulls into her driveway. She is fairly good at reading people, but sometimes expressions are composed of too many emotions to clearly identify. Emma wore one of those when they parted, although the primary feeling had been positive. 

Regina has just enough time to get a pot pie out of the freezer for dinner when a knock sounds at her door. One carefully executed sweep of her hand dresses the brunette in a fresh set of casual clothes – grey dress pants and burgundy blouse – before opening the door. “Come in, I'll be right there.”

Striding to the bathroom, Regina straightens her hair and make-up, the actions enabling her to settle what remains of the lingering irritation with Blue.

“Let's go,” Emma says unhelpfully when she returns, the blond’s eyes resting on Regina for a few seconds before she's turning around to open the door. Suddenly happy she took the opportunity to straighten up, Regina puts on her winter accoutrements and follows the blond to her luminescent vehicle.

_ I really must like the Saviour now, willingly getting into her death trap, _ Regina thinks with amusement, taking a quick scan of the interior. A dusting and vacuum wouldn't go astray but overall it's surprisingly comfortable. The sounds it makes when starting up, however, are a far cry from the low purr of her Mercedes.

“Relax, Regina, I just had it serviced,” Emma says through a grin as they pull onto the street.

“It still sounds like a bear being dragged across gravel,” she quips, watching the snow-covered landscape slide by.

The Rabbit Hole is only five blocks from Regina's house but she's thankful for a warm ride to the venue. Winter has arrived in full force, bringing two feet of snow and bitterly cold temperatures. When they step out of Emma's bug no wind buffets them, but they still hurry inside the adult establishment. Since it's early afternoon the bar is quiet, only two other patrons tucked into a booth near the back.

As they seat themselves at the bar, the server nods to Emma, glances at Regina then slides a shot glass of clear liquid down the polished wood to the brunette. Regina catches it with a well practised hand.

“Been here before?” Emma inquires, equal parts surprised and impressed.

“I may have come a few times over the years.” Shrugging nonchalantly, Regina downs the vodka and sends the glass in a controlled spin back to the bartender.

“Beer for you, Sheriff?”

“Brandy please, Brad.” Catching the drink a couple of seconds later, Emma waits for Regina to get her second shot before raising the glass. “To successful sessions in magical theory.”

“I'd rather drink to Blue's early demise,” Regina does not expect her response to receive a devilish grin from the Saviour.

“Play nice, Regina.”

Emma's impish attitude intensifies the effects of the warming alcohol.

“There's no fun in playing nice,” she grins, letting her eyes take in the woman beside her. “But I'll drink to protecting Storybrooke.”

“To protecting Storybrooke then,” Emma returns, holding out her glass.

“Cheers.” The two glasses clink musically, Regina's attention catching on the blond's slim neck as Emma swallows, waves of golden hair falling forward as her chin lowers.

Regina's noticed Emma's physical attributes many times, but seeing her dressed up at the celebration has somehow changed her perception of them. Now when she looks at the Saviour, the free-flowing blond hair, open face with only light touches of make-up, and slender yet sturdy figure seem more attractive. Even clothed in pants and shirts only considered fashionable by teenagers.

Emma has always been a more physical person than Regina. Whereas the brunette consciously uses her body to influence people, Emma uses her body for direct interaction, keeping it fit and strong. Hers is a natural beauty, born of an intense spirit. In this, as well as so many other ways, Emma is pure.

Halting that train of thought prevents her from falling into darker introspection. Thankfully, the alcohol is more than obliging to assist with focusing on the good things. Now, what had she been thinking about before that unhappy turn of thought? Oh yes, how attractive Emma is.

“Normally it'd be my job to try and keep the peace,” Emma says nonchalantly, examining her empty glass, “but, since I'm of duty, I can overlook a little trouble.”

Regina is surprised to feel a ripple of arousal pass through her body. Emma's response bordered on sultry. She likely hadn't intended that but, mixed with the 'devil-may-care' attitude, Regina finds herself interested to see how daring a slightly inebriated Saviour can be. Not that she's sexually interested in Emma, this is purely a scientific character study.

“Well, you've come to the right town if you're looking for trouble,” having signaled for a bottle of wine, Regina turns herself fully toward Emma.

“I miss the days when it was just you and me, though,” Emma says suddenly, mood shifting as her gaze falls to the wooden bar. “When we were fighting – not that I want us to fight! I enjoy being friends, love it actually, I don't ever want to lose it!” 

Shutting her mouth, Emma takes a stabilising breath then continues more slowly. “What I mean is, it was nicer before Gold brought magic to Storybrooke. I'd rather not have to fight all manner of monsters on a regular basis. This Sheriff never has a chance to relax.”

Smiling sympathetically, Regina revels in the amusement left by Emma's initial torrent of words. Knowing the blond appreciates their friendship makes her feel good. It isn't as though Emma hasn't shown it in a dozen small ways, but hearing it said means more somehow. “Do you usually have trouble holding your liquor?” She asks as Brad supplies them with a bottle of dark red wine and two glasses.

“No, I just haven't partaken in a while,” Emma pauses, considers something, then decides not to continue. The action piques Regina's curiousity so that, once she's finished pouring them each a taste of what she knows to be a fine vintage, she inquires. “Something on your mind?”

“Oh, you know,” a light blush rises to Emma's cheeks, a colour Regina enjoys seeing on the Saviour.

“I'm afraid I don't,” leaning to the left, Regina gives her companion's shoulder a gentle nudge with her own. “Come on, we're friends, you can tell me anything you'd like. I may even let you braid my hair.”

The laughter this elicits seems to ease the blond's nerves. “I'm not good at girl talk,” she admits, “or braiding hair. I was usually roughhousing with the boys.”

“That doesn't surprise me,” after another sip, Regina reaches over to take a curl of Emma's hair between her fingers. “I imagine this was a liability in those instances.”

“Yes, my hair was kept short until I turned sixteen, then I grew it out.” Emma's voice is distant, a soothing hum as Regina smooths the soft tress, watching how it reacts to tension – stretching then rebounding. Never breaking.

_ Like Emma herself. _

Letting the strand go, Regina turns back to her glass.

“When constructing the curse's details short hair was the first detail I gave myself. As you may have noticed, long hair was expected for young women in the Enchanted Forest. I hate the damsel in distress look. Long hair was another reminder of my lot in life. Even if my mother hadn't decided what was best for me, others always would have. Snow's father allowed her a lot of freedom, more than most girls could ever dream of. It's the only reason she was able to survive alone in the woods as long as she did.”

Tilting her glass, Regina watches the crimson liquid roll within the vessel, voice lowering as she follows the train of thought. “Even if I'd... married Daniel I would have been trapped by expectations. To be with him I would have willingly accepted them, but when I decided I could never be truly happy without getting revenge I took advantage of all the avenues of manipulation available to me. I still wanted to be powerful in Storybrooke, but without any of the expectations that ruled first my mother's, and then my own life.” 

Closing her eyes, Regina chuckles darkly. “Apparently I also blabber after only a few glasses of alcohol.”

A warm hand on her arm brings Regina back from her depressing thoughts. The two women share a smile then finish their drinks over small talk about the town. Regina's preparing to excuse herself when Emma reveals a very interesting piece of information.

“Mary Margaret is thinking about holding a mayoral election in the new year.” Emma is watching her closely as she makes the revelation, proving that the Saviour can indeed hold her liquor.

“Indeed? Bringing Storybrooke into the 21 st century.”

“Do you think you'd run?” Emma's eyes are bright.

“I cannot say, this news is unexpected. Even if I wanted the position I'm skeptical that I would receive the popular vote.” Slipping her coat on, Regina sets payment down on the bar then turns back to Emma. “The danger with democracy is that people don't always know what's best for them. I would hope Storybrooke's residents would know better than to elect someone who’s shown themselves to be more interested in self-fulfillment than collective well-being. I am trying to reform, but cannot say I'd be the best candidate.”

“I think you should,” Emma states, blocking Regina's exit with her body. The action sends a sliver of annoyance through her. David is bringing Henry home, but she wants to be there waiting for him.

“Why don't we discuss this while we walk?” She suggests.

Nodding, Emma tosses on her gear and holds the door open for the brunette. Once outside, the two walk at a brisk pace to keep their limbs from numbing, breath forming thick clouds about their faces.

“You were saying?” Regina inquires.

“Just that I think you should run for mayor.”

“And why might that be?”

“You were good at it, when you weren't abusing your power.” Emma's gaze slides from the landscape to her, something about its intensity making Regina uncomfortable. “The Regina I know now wouldn't do that. At least, not without a good reason.”

“What would classify as a good reason in your eyes?” Regina is not sure how she feels about the conversation. On the one hand, it's nice to be having a candid conversation where the Saviour is vouching for her despite her frailties. On the other, this topic is bringing up a lot of baggage and ill feelings. 

While part of her does miss having a job to go to, as well as the influence that comes with being mayor, another part of her likes being a full-time mother to Henry. She certainly doesn't need the money and getting to leave the idiocy of Storybrooke's residents in someone else's hands is a joy she revels in every day.

“Protecting Henry, and the town,” Emma replies.

“If you'll recall, Miss Swan, the reason I abused my power as mayor was to protect Henry from you. My motives may have been misguided but I felt justified in my actions. While I am striving to be a better person my loyalty to Henry will never change. That seems to be a reason for me to avoid the post.”

“Don't you miss it?” Emma asks stubbornly, hands pushing deep into her pockets.

“Sometimes, but I also enjoy not having to worry about the everyday workings of this town. As far as I'm concerned, it's free to take care of itself – unless a hell beast shows up that endangers Henry.”

Emma remains silent until they're on the corner where they'll part to reach their separate dwellings. The Saviour beats her farewell with a final declaration. “You were a good mayor. You'd be doing the town a disservice not to be somehow involved in its operations. I just want you to know that you wouldn't be in it alone.”

“I never am anymore.” A trace of exasperation leaks into her voice, but Regina finds she's more touched than annoyed at Emma's words.

_ I really am going soft _ , she muses.

“See you Friday?” Emma asks, stomping her feet.

“To battle,” Regina nods. Stepping carefully out onto the street, the brunette strides determinedly in the direction of home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters are uploaded once a week (Sunday).


	16. Emma's Revelation

_~Emma_

Most of Friday's TCPC lesson passes in a haze for Emma. Considering how the planning session had gone, the actual lesson is surprisingly low key. Blue had done most of the talking with Regina inputting occasional information, both women performing demonstrations when warranted. Emma had stood off to the side, her role limited to providing assistance with said demonstrations. 

The fact that Blue and Regina do not perform any magic together is the most obvious clue that they do not like each other. The other is that they never look at one another, merely exchanging centre stage when their parts demand it.

In truth, the Blue Fairy largely takes care of her own magical examples, the few spells Emma performs with her feeling sluggish compared to those she performs with Regina. While the difference catches her attention, Emma chalks it up to familiarity working with Regina.

_ If every session goes as smoothly as this one then the town should survive the experience, _ Emma decides.

The turnout had been good. About half the available seats in the hall were occupied, representing slightly less than a third of Storybrooke's population. Besides Henry, whom Mary Margaret and David had brought, there was only one other child whose name Emma cannot immediately recall, although she knows the mother's is Helga. Mr. Gold, Belle, Neal, Killian and the nuns had all been present making Emma glad she was merely an assistant in the enterprise. 

Initially, the audience had been wary yet interested. Fifteen minutes in they seemed to have decided that nothing threatening was going to happen, becoming fully absorbed in the material. Although she'd been privy to it prior to the session, Emma’s still intrigued by the history of magic they recount. While Blue has a tendency toward dry recitation of facts most of the details involve conflicts which hold the collective interest. 

Forty-five minutes later the session adjourns to a polite round of applause. Emma grins when she sees Henry clapping more enthusiastically than the rest, his young face beaming with pleasure. When Regina also catches this reaction she smiles more genuinely and steps up beside Blue. All things considered, the event is a resounding success.

As she’s packing up their supplies and belongings behind stage, her family comes in a wave to engulf her and Regina in hugs, exclaiming how fascinating and professional the session had been. Several nuns follow suit, although their movement around Regina is so anxious that Emma finds herself being gradually shuttled away from the brunette. It takes several attempts to extract herself, during which her waning patience steadily transitions into less polite responses. 

Having finally escaped an impassioned speech about her valiance by Sister Sarah, Emma makes a beeline toward where she glimpsed Regina and Henry gathering their coats. Unfortunately, she’s intercepted yet again, this time by Gold, Neal, and Belle who stop her in the hallway enroute to the exit.

“That was marvelous, Emma!” Belle gushes, her eyes alight with the characteristic love of learning. “I've read a little about the early adopters, but to hear about them from fairy lore and a student of the arts brings such a rich perspective!”

“Thank you, Belle.” She replies, glancing between Gold and Neal to gauge if their attention concerns more than academic appreciation.

“It was very well outlined and executed, dearie,” Mr. Gold says in his silky voice, displaying a smile that does not touch his eyes. “I have no doubt future sessions will be just as… enlightening.”

“We hope to see you here next week,” Emma's response is automatic, despite the fact that she'd prefer his absence.

“You handled yourself wonderfully,” Neal states, a slight quirk to his smile. It's been so long since she's seen the expression Emma finds herself responding with a smile of her own. “Thank you, Neal. Working with two strong-willed women who rarely agree definitely has its challenges.”

By the time she's managed to escape the crowd Regina and Henry are gone. A little crestfallen, Emma tells her parents she'll be walking ahead and takes a circuitous route back to their apartment.

The air is cold but without wind and snow to add to its bluster. Walking always helps calm her mind which is something Emma needs after the excitement of the evening. There had been something... different about performing magic with Regina tonight. A thrill at having her progress truly made public, but also a kind of – discontent. The only explanation Emma can deduce for this feeling is that she's used to sharing magic with Regina in private and that performing it has taken some of the... glow out of it.

_ Like revealing something deeply private about our friendship _ , she considers. It's not as though they haven't performed magic in public before, but something about tonight's session had been different than working to save Storybrooke. Something she can't quite -

Emma's attention snaps to the present when she senses someone behind her. Swiftly turning down a small alley, she keeps still, pistol in her hand. As the person comes around the corner she slams him against the wall hard enough to stun him, Emma taking the couple of seconds it gives her to discern his identity.

“Why are you following me, Killian?”

“Hmph,” he coughs a couple of times, Emma taking a perverse pleasure in the act. “Just wanted to make sure you got home safely, love.”

“Like a stalker?” Her glare intensifies. “As you've seen, I can handle myself just fine.” Realising she's more tired than angry, Emma relinquishes her hold on him, the pirate straightening his collar.

“I also wanted to congratulate you,” he states, the lamplight overhead casting an eerie glow, “I've seen a lot of things I didn't think were possible since coming to Storybrooke and you've been involved in every one of them.”

“Thank you, now I really should be heading home.” Turning her back on him, Emma begins walking quickly down the sidewalk, hoping to put as much distance as she can between them. Her frustration spikes upon realising that he's still following. “Look, would you just -.”

“Perhaps it's too late to warn you,” his words take the dismissal she'd been forming out of her mouth. Seeing he's got her attention he draws level and continues. “Regina is no longer the woman who brought a kingdom to its knees, but darkness follows her as loyally as moths do flame. She's very good at convincing you of her confidence, while concealing a good deal of her arsenal.”

“What are you going on about, Killian?” Now she's angry. The last thing she wants to be talking about with the self-absorbed vagabond is her relationship with Regina.

“I know you're interested in her.” He calmly responds.

Emma's shock prevents her from immediately dispelling the accusation, a fact as revealing as any confession.

_ How the hell has he figured that out?  _

She'd expected Ruby to see through her flimsy cover, but never in a million years would she have thought the pirate observant enough to notice.

“I have no id-,” she manages.

“Let's not waste time with denial.” Killian's lack of emotion leaves Emma unsure how she should react. Should she be angry, worried, relieved? Right now she's experiencing a dizzying combination of all three.

“I swear I won't tell anyone.” He states, Emma watching him closely. “I just wanted to let you know the risks.”

Deciding that the conversation is worth continuing, Emma leads them into a sheltered storefront. Once blocked from sight and somewhat protected, she feels more comfortable proceeding.

“So, what exactly do you think is going on between me and Regina?” She demands, arms crossing over her chest.

“Romantically, nothing.” He replies matter-of-factly. “You're obviously friends though, and your actions suggest a desire for more.”

“My actions?” Emma raises an eyebrow skeptically.

“Now that I know to look for them they're in a hundred little actions, but I only started paying attention because of the way you were looking at her in the bar.”

_ After the first lesson planning session. _

“You were there?” Yes it’s a redundant question, but Emma still can't believe what she’s hearing. How the hell does Killian know about her attraction to Regina?

“I may not be a very keen-eyed fellow, but my interest in you makes me attentive to your movements. And I know what desire looks like in a woman.” Tucking his hook under his arm, Killian wraps his jacket tighter about his form. “On that occasion I happened to already be in the establishment and at an angle to see you both.”

“'Happened',” Emma reiterates, although her words lack bite.

He sighs, this seriousness extremely uncharacteristic. “I doubt pursuing this attraction will end well for you but what you do is your choice, love.”

“Yes, it is.” Emma responds firmly. “Your concern is noted, Killian.” She pauses for a moment, at a loss for how to approach this new territory between them. “Thank you for keeping this to yourself. The – the truth is I don't know what I'm going to do about my feelings. Regina is... a beautiful, intelligent, self-sufficient – well, she's Regina.” Flicking her head to the side, Emma restlessly scans their surroundings. “She's also my friend. She's had enough crap in her life, I don't want to risk our friendship by pushing for more.”

The words are so logical. She believes them, knows that this decision is for the best, yet saying it aloud seems to set the course in stone. It's the best course for everyone – but it makes her heart feel like a fifty-pound weight.

_ Oh god, I – I can't be falling in  _ -, panic is welling inside her, Emma refusing to finish the thought.

But why else would she feel sad about preserving their friendship? She is not so perverted as to feel disappointed about a lack of sexual access. No, the sadness casting a shadow across her awareness is about far more than base desire.

_ I don't just want to sleep with Regina,  _ she concludes with sobering clarity,  _ I – I want to share my life with her. _

Rapidly shelving the revelation for later scrutiny, she focuses once more on the man before her.

“Can't say I'm unhappy to hear that,” the pirate admits. “Part of me still hopes you might try a relationship with me, but forcing the issue does not help my case. You have a family here in Storybrooke. Unlike villains like myself, you fight tirelessly for others' happiness. If, in some small way, I can help bring about some happiness for you – I can be content with that.”

_ Wow... it seems like his time with Mary Margaret had an impact. _

“I appreciate that.” Emma responds sincerely. “While I'd prefer you stay clear of my love life, if you're truly serious about making my life easier I will speak with David about including you in law enforcement. Between the lessons and my own training it'd be beneficial to have another deputy at the office.”

“That would be agreeable,” he responds with a slight bow. “Between you and me, I am getting rather tired of the smell of fish.” The attempt at humour is accompanied with one of his signature grins.

Rolling her eyes, Emma agrees to let him walk her the rest of the way home. While she's not convinced his motives are entirely pure, the pirate seems to be changing for the better. Amid the chaos of her own emotions, Emma's simply relieved that one of her sources of stress might finally be turning over a new leaf.

* * *

Emma manages to avoid her parents once inside the apartment, sneaking up to the loft while they're doing only god knows what in the bathroom. Thankfully, sleep comes quickly after her eventful day and she manages to avoid her parents again come morning when she only lingers long enough to grab her coat. 

She'd slept surprisingly well given the previous evening's revelations. Admittedly, this is probably due to her determination that avoidance is the best course of action. Emma Swan is all too familiar with how badly things can go when deep feelings get involved and she has every intention of upholding the declaration she made to Killian. Her friendship with Regina is far too precious to risk losing over some ludicrous fantasy.

Romantic involvement has only caused her trouble so avoiding it is likely in her best interests anyway. Unfortunately, her dear mother is not of the same mind. The first time she and Mary Margaret interact after the magical theory session is at the family lunch on Saturday. Since Friday now hosts TCPC sessions, their tradition of dinner at Granny's has been moved one day over – the Charmings, Mills, and Swan participants gathering in their favoured booth to examine the mid-day offerings.

This is where Emma learns that she and the pirate had been seen walking back to the apartment together, a discovery that has her regretting her moment of consideration for the man.

“So, how's Killian?” Her mother inquires, entirely failing at seeming disinterested.

“Hm? Oh, he's, uh, fine. I guess.” Emma responds, trying to appear engrossed in her menu.

_ Why am I never as smooth in my deliveries as Regina? _ After all the time they've spent together she would have expected some mannerisms to rub off.

“Well that's good.” Her mother responds nonchalantly. “I wouldn't have expected him to hang around Storybrooke for so long. He must have found something he likes. I'll have the Reuben with garden salad, Ruby.” Mary Margaret says without missing a beat, the waitress grinning between them as she takes the order.

_ Sometimes having a mother around is not so shit-hot. _

Feeling eyes on her, she glances up and David gives her a sympathetic smile. He's no doubt gotten an earful of this subject already. Henry is mildly interested, although the arrival of his cheeseburger effectively diverts his attention. Regina is wearing her 'I can't believe we're discussing this I couldn't care less' face which is better than outright disdain. If Mary Margaret insists on pursuing this topic, however, that disdain is very likely going to make an appearance.

“Despite our occasional magical mishaps there's a lot going for Storybrooke,” Emma states, accepting her plate from Ruby.

“He was very helpful at the soup kitchen,” her mother remarks, “is he still working at the docks?”

“I haven't heard otherwise.”

“Why don't you offer him a job at the station?” Mary Magaret's suggestion instantly raises Emma's hackles. Despite – or perhaps in spite of – the fact that she's been weighing the pros and cons of that possibility, Emma now has to consider the fact that Killian working at the Station will come with unwelcome implications.

_ I'll never hear the end of this talk if I employ the pirate. _

“I don't think that's a good idea.”

“Why not? Ruby's only part time. You're now involved in lessons and classes. You and David both working there makes family time difficult to arrange -.”

“We're having it now,” Emma replies bluntly.

“Yes, but you could be called away at any moment,” Mary Margaret retorts, a slight whine in her voice.

“Look  _ mom _ , you may be mayor but I think you should keep personal interest out of how funds are spent.” Emma's direct challenge surprises everyone present, the majority of whom proceed to gawk at her. Well, everyone except Regina who knows her well enough to expect no different. The brunette merely continues eating her panini, watching the drama unfold.

“I'm merely trying to keep the town safe.” Her mother's tone is tense and Emma feels a savage kind of pleasure at having struck a nerve.

“He has no experience in law enforcement. In fact, he could probably write a book on how to circumvent it.” Regina retorts.

Henry chuckles around his mouthful of fry and when Emma glances at the brunette she sees amused approval in the woman's eyes.

“He could arrest people.” Mary Margaret replies lamely.

“He has a hook for a second hand and blades are not standard issue here in Storybrooke.” Taking a bite of her own fried potato, Emma takes a breath then continues in a more conciliatory manner. “Mom, as Storybrooke's Sheriff I will determine who is best suited to help keep order in this town. The last thing I need is the complication of attempted matchmaking.”

Nodding, her mother seems to accept the olive branch she's extended and the conversation turns to Thanksgiving plans. By the time they've left the diner a tentative arrangement at Regina's has been made with the Charmings contributing desert and dinner rolls. Light snow is falling from the sky as Emma walks toward the Station, David having taken the cruiser to deliver Henry to his riding lesson.

Regina's Mercedes drives past, a sudden need to check her pockets overtaking the blond. In her coat she finds a neatly wrapped note. It contains only one sentence in tidy handwriting.

_ What, not interested in Captain Guyliner? _

Emma laughs out loud, the sound free and light in the white world around her. She looks for Regina's vehicle but it's already out of sight. Warmth has flooded her body, bringing with it the childish urge to fall down and make a snow angel. Carefully tucking the note back in her pocket, Emma continues toward the Station, unable to deny the truth that's becoming truer with every encounter. She's falling for Regina – and she's making no attempt to stop the rapid descent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters are uploaded once a week (Sunday).


	17. Torn Between

_~Regina_

For a woman without a full time job Regina still feels enormously busy. Her days spent quietly at home in a spotless house are now distant memories. After participating in town activities, teaching the magical theory classes alongside Blue, continuing Emma's lessons, and spending time with Henry, Regina has almost no time left to maintain her house in the manner she prefers. Well, not without magic.

The mundane act of cleaning had once been an essential part of maintaining her composure. Surprisingly, being more engaged in Storybrooke's business has not necessitated an increase in such stress-relieving practices. While she certainly still gets annoyed and frustrated with the ineptitude and incompetence around her, Regina finds it does not bother her the way it used to. She can't identify exactly why that's changed. She can, however, recognise that the attitudes of most people towards her are shifting.

Fewer smiles disappear when she enters a room. Some even grow a fraction. Usually this reaction occurs after tasting one of her culinary concoctions, but occasionally it happens when she makes a quip. Red now makes the odd snide, yet playful, remark when they meet, Gepetto and Pinocchio wave when they see her – always from a distance – and some of the dwarves acknowledge her when their paths cross. The fairies are still wary but far more friendly, Blue maintaining her haughty attitude despite the fact that she seeks Regina out once a week for brief discussions on magical theory, whether or not they have a planning session.

Then there are the Charmings. Charming himself is friendly, but when left alone their only discussion topic is Henry. Snow engages her on a wider variety of subjects. Since Regina held the mayoral position she understands many of Snow's challenges, sometimes caring enough to provide suggestions. Generally they talk about their family, never what occurred during Regina's marriage to Leopold, just their current Storybrooke dynamic.

Ignoring that part of her life is something Regina's happy to do. Considering how important vengeance had been to her, and how she'd used the despair and anger fostered in those torturous years to fuel her rise to power, it's humbling to realise how meaningless those lengths had been. Enjoying a mug of hot chocolate with Henry, discussing public policy with Snow, taking a relaxing walk around the lake in the park, baking a tray of croissants – all of it brings her more peace and satisfaction than she'd ever had as a queen in the Enchanted Forest.

Some residents still want to return to the old world, but Regina is not one of them. Besides the never to be underestimated wonders of indoor plumbing and electricity, she's no longer trapped by sexist customs. The fashions might be atrocious at times, but Regina gladly accepts less impressive attire in exchange for the freedom to pursue her humble passions. Life in Storybrooke has more than enough excitement for her.

Then there's Emma.

Wiping her hands on the front of her apron, Regina makes a smooth 180 degree turn, opens the oven door, and slips two trays of cookies inside. Setting the timer, she effortlessly returns the kitchen to its pristine state, removes her apron, and heads for the study. Just inside the door she starts her stereo, lingers to ensure the song is one she wants to hear, then strides over to the empty glass waiting on her bar. Having filled the fragile vessel with amber liquid, Regina slowly walks to the window and stares sightlessly into the darkness.

Almost three months ago she'd stood in this room with Emma Swan, outlining how they would manipulate the town into letting her help teach magical theory lessons. Those three months seem more like years, the incredible chain of circumstances leading to the achievement of their goal impossible to predict. Life has a funny way of doing that, taking turns no sane person could ever predict.

_ Or desire. _

Fate had been a strong force in her old world, but in this new one, a land previously without magic as she knew it, anything is possible.

Finishing her drink with one long swallow, Regina lets the heat seep through her veins, closing her eyes to savour the sensation. Without her initiation or permission, an alternate version of reality rises to consume her awareness.

In this place she is still facing the cold, dark exterior, but instead of an empty doorway illuminated behind her, a figure is blocking some of the light, its silhouette familiar. Familiar and comforting, yet also... exciting. Exciting - and Dangerous.

Emma steps into the room, pauses, then continues forward until she's directly behind Regina, the brunette still watching her in the window's reflection. One slender hand rises up, pauses again, then runs gently through Regina's hair. The light touch sends a thrill through the brunette's body. The blond's other hand appears at Regina's side, grazing the sensitive skin through her thin blouse. A small noise of approval escapes Regina as she succumbs to the fantasy, letting the alcohol dissolve her inhibitions.

One of Emma's small, part shy, part flirtatious smiles illuminates her face, the woman's hands becoming more confident with their exploration. Hot breath against her neck makes Regina shift her head to the right, giving Emma more access. The blond's right hand tickles along her stomach, the left trailing butterfly kisses over the underside of the arm not holding her glass. Emma is now standing directly behind her, the woman's heat burning through Regina's clothes to the wanton skin beneath. When the blond's mouth meets her throat, the brunette can't hold it in any longer.

“Emma,” she breathes, knees weakening.

A shrill noise blares from the kitchen, the sudden disturbance causing the glass to slip from Regina's fingers. She winces as it hits the floor, forcibly shaking herself free of the fantasy and bending to retrieve it. A long crack has formed from the lip almost to the solid base. Instead of fixing it, Regina sets the object on the table in the centre of the room.

“A reminder,” she tells herself, turning in the direction of the kitchen.

_ Never let desire cloud your judgment. _

The attraction that spawned during Blue's celebration has steadily grown over the past two weeks. At first Regina hadn't given it a second thought, categorising her observance of Emma's figure, expressions, and attire as perfectly casual. No different than what she would notice about anyone in Storybrooke.

Gradually, however, those observations had become visualisations in private places. One had woken her from a restful sleep, another had infiltrated a relaxing shower. Those two areas of her life leant themselves more directly to intimate thoughts so, although annoyed by them, Regina hadn't concerned herself about their presence. It was when she began having fantasies about the Saviour in other parts of her house that Regina decided this attraction required more scrutiny.

Oddly enough, this trend had begun in the entryway to her house, fantasy-Emma catching her off guard as she bent to remove her boots. Next, fantasy-Emma had woken her from a nap in the living room couch with exploratory fingers. The most provocative had involved Emma being less gentle - forcing Regina's legs open and pressing her back against the kitchen counter. 

That daydream had occurred two nights ago and had likely been inspired by the spontaneous wrestling match Emma'd had with Henry the day before. Generally, Emma acted unassuming and considerate, but such moments of physicality reminded Regina that the blond was a strong and capable woman who knew how to use her body. Just remembering the circumstance has heat gathering between her thighs.

This is the second time she's fantasized about Emma in her study. Since alcohol is usually present there Regina rationalises it's to be expected. The study is where she goes to lose herself, putting aside thoughts of schedules, responsibilities, and people.

_ I can now officially say Emma follows me everywhere _ , she thinks, infusing the thought with more derision than she actually feels.

In truth, the notion does not bother her as much as she expected – an unsettling fact that does nothing to help her decide on a course of action. Sucking a broken piece of sugar cookie between her lips, Regina leans against a cupboard, putting up almost no resistance when her mind drifts back to the kitchen fantasy.

The blond's mouth had been on her neck, one hand holding both of Regina's hostage above her head while the other pushed the brunette tighter against her. Emma's leg had ground into her searing core, sending intense waves of pleasure through Regina's body. She hadn't begged, eager for the torturous teasing the Saviour was giving, the woman's scent consuming her awareness. Emma's hand on her back had lowered to grip her hip, fingernails adding discomfort to the sensations. Regina's arousal increased tenfold.

Forcibly pulling herself out of the visualisation, the brunette presses a palm to her forehead. Self-pleasuring takes the edge off her desire, but does not stop the visions. Avoiding thoughts of Emma while masturbating also seems to be impossible so Regina fears she’s only adding fuel to the fire of her desire for the younger woman.

_ I'm in trouble,  _ she tells herself for the hundredth time. Reiteration does not seem to be helping her solve the problem either.

Most of the time these thoughts do not influence her relationship with the blond - she's had years of practice in self-control - but Regina no longer trusts herself to see some of Emma's reactions in an unbiased way. Sometimes she thinks the Saviour watches her more intently than friends should, or that her flirting goes deeper than playful banter, but this is likely her own devious lust tinting her perspective.

_ I'm probably just seeing what I'd like to see, _ the brunette reasons.

And if Emma, for some incomprehensible reason, did happen to share her desire, acting on it would undoubtedly be bad for both of them.

While most of their interactions are friendly – even enjoyable Regina admits – their fights are still spectacular. Emma is as passionate as the brunette and can fiercely defend her point beyond all reasonable bounds.

_ Just like me. _

Deepening their relationship would lead to more such disagreements, their explosive potential deepening right along with it. Risking their friendship is something Regina's not willing to do. For Henry – but also for herself. In a life where Henry's growing up with less time for his mother, Emma is a bright spot that keeps her motivated to go on. Regina can absorb herself in responsibilities, but what is the point if life holds no pleasure? There's an internal light to Emma – the metaphor laughably appropriately Regina observes – a light that draws people and brings out the best in them. An effect the brunette is not immune to.

Hope follows Emma wherever she goes and damned if Regina doesn't like having that in her life. But it's more than that. Emma has become a friend who shares secret looks with her, who understands her well enough to anticipate what mood she's in and adjusts her actions accordingly – who challenges her, yet always with an undercurrent of respect and genuine caring. Regina knows how rare a friend like that is for her. She's not risking it to placate an overactive libido.

After putting the cookies away she turns off the downstairs lights and climbs the staircase in her quiet house. Since Henry is at the Charmings she'll be once more alone in the house tonight.

A sudden wave of loneliness causes tears to sting her eyes. Leaning against the railing, Regina waits for it to pass, steadying her breathing.

_ This house is too big for one person. _

Having regained her composure, she finishes her ascent and completes her pre-sleep routine with tight-lipped determination. Slipping beneath the covers, Regina resolutely closes her eyes and tries to will herself into oblivion.

Twenty minutes later one hand slides under the satin material covering her naked body and begins measured strokes. Her attempts to keep the fantasy person innocuous are eventually abandoned, a woman with blond hair, piercing green eyes, and loving smile carrying her into ecstasy.

* * *

Regina can't keep a trace of anxious excitement from her nerves when she sees Emma waiting on the seaside bench. It's a relatively central location between the blond's place of employment and the school where Regina now spends a good portion of her time. Her participation in the bake sale led to a place on the parent council which means regular meetings and activities, mostly fundraising in nature. It, more than any other commitment, is what's made her life so hectic these days.

The council's most recent point of discussion - really argument is a more appropriate word - is whether a Christmas dance should be held for the grade eights. Regina has no concerns about Henry, he's an upstanding gentleman at the tender age of thirteen. Not surprisingly, division on the issue mainly consists of two sides – the free-loving, 'let 'em enjoy being young' types against the 'overly protective, teenage sex-fearing' types. In an amusing twist of fate, Regina has been appointed mediator to resolve the tension, although her love for riling up the commoners might be slightly impeding the process.

As she approaches her appointed meeting spot with Emma all thought of childish quarrelling flees, leaving behind a restless energy she tries to ignore. Nothing has changed between them and every grown woman needs a few adult fantasies. Despite this resolution, Emma's warm smile of greeting has her heart pounding at twice the normal rhythm.

“I'm glad you got my text.” The blond's pointless opening line immediately alerts Regina to the fact that something is wrong. Regina always gets Emma's texts. Storybrooke may be backwards in a lot of ways, but it has very few issues picking up satellite signals.

“Alright, enough stalling,” crossing her arms, Regina fixes Emma with a no-nonsense stare.

“I haven't even done any!” She exclaims in a lack-luster version of her usual playful tone. Regina hates not knowing something, particularly if it makes Emma - who knows her better than anybody - nervous. “Ok, well, take a seat and I'll tell you.”

Perching on the edge of the bench next to Emma's, Regina tucks her hands primly in her lap and waits as the blond gathers her courage. Thankfully, Emma appears to have learned that ripping off a bandage is better than teasing at it.

“Neal wants to take Henry to New York to see a Football game.” Taking another breath, she continues. “He wants them to go this Saturday and Henry's really excited. He didn't think you'd let him go if he asked so he wanted me to.”

This time, the extended silence that follows Emma's words is not to prolong the Saviour's discomfort. The information requires processing which, for Regina, means not immediately shooting it down. She can think of a hundred reasons why Henry shouldn't go, but are those reasons good enough to make him stay? Yes, she's always been a bit of a paranoid mother, but life has taught her the value of paranoia. Then again, this is a world without magic. Still - Emma does not look thrilled about the notion either.

_ Perhaps I'll have an ally when Henry throws a fit. _

“What do you think?” Regina asks, schooling her features to prevent herself from influencing Emma's response. The blond eyes her warily then replies. “Can't say I'm terribly fond of the idea, but Henry really wants to go and Neal's been very good with him...” She trails off then meets Regina's gaze. “I think we should let him go.”

And with those words the inferno of fear, anger, and betrayal – yes, totally illogical but nonetheless present, betrayal – rises up like a beast in Regina's body.

“Oh we should, should we?” She whispers darkly. “Let the man who abandoned you when Henry was newly conceived show our son the sights and attractions of the big city. Perhaps he'll teach him how to pick pockets or, better yet, steal a red death trap to match your yellow one.”

She can see Emma trying to withstand the urge to meet Regina's anger with her own. Normally, the brunette would take an emotional step back, acknowledge that talking rationally rather than accusatory shouting is the best way to handle these situations, but Regina wants to fight – and she wants to fight with Emma. In the face of fear that a million horrible things might happen to Henry – and this woman who is just going to let it happen – fighting with Emma feels like the thing to put the world to rights.

“Neal would not do that to Henry.” Emma says gently. “He loves Henry, he'd never let anything happen to him.”

“Love has no bearing on intelligence. As soon as they leave Storybrooke no one can protect Henry – there may not be magical threats, but people are far more dangerous anyway.” The heat of her magic is pounding through her blood, Regina's hands tightening into fists. “Neal takes him on a motorcycle joy ride and he falls off - breaks his neck. Someone steals a purse, Henry and Neal decide to play hero and pursue. The burglar takes out a gun and he's dead. Dead. Our son is no more.”

“Why are you saying this?!” Emma's shouting as well, the fear stirred by Regina's horrible imaginings successfully ending her attempts to remain rational.

“Because one of us needs to be realistic - to remember what's at stake.” She spits viciously. “We've sacrificed too much to have him killed by your pathetic boyfriend's idiocy.”

“He's not my boyfriend!”

“Henry is not going to New York.” A firm upward thrust of her hands brings Regina back to her house. Her bedroom specifically. As soon as she's alone Regina crumples, one hand grasping clumsily at the bedspread as shame joins the fear and anger pounding inside her.

_ There I go – ruining things again.  _ Hot tears blossom and trail down her cheeks, a terrible tightness in her chest making her feel like she's about to shatter.  _ Even here, far from the realm of princesses and evil queens I'm still cursed. _

Tugging the cover down she presses into it, losing herself in a yawning pit of despair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters are uploaded once a week (Sunday).


	18. The Queen

_ ~Emma _

Emma's shocked anger accompanies her on patrol. She'd expected Regina to react negatively, but the intensity – and how accusatory she'd been toward Emma personally – had been unreasonable and uncalled for.

_ Completely out of proportion _ , the blond fumes, stopping her vehicle in front of the park.  _ Why I put up with her shit is beyond me! _

Swiping a frustrated hand through her hair, Emma tries to work through the sequence of events with detached analysis, but they are too fresh for study. Grunting, she throws open the door of the police cruiser, tucks her cellphone snugly in her pocket and takes off up the path at a gradually increasing jog. Twenty minutes later she's been around the green space three times and managed to work off the energy Regina's explosion had elicited.

The brunette is concerned about Henry, Emma can understand that. The thought of him leaving Storybrooke period, let alone with Neal, makes her jittery. At the same time she knows that their son needs room to grow up. Soon he won't need their permission to go where he wants and, if they try to cage him, he will simply pull away.

_ Just as he did to Regina when he came to find me. _

Emma's aware of her tendency to underestimate danger. Most would consider her childhood a string of tragedy and unnecessary risk-taking. While it had been shitty in a lot of ways, it had also made her stronger. The world was not going to change because Regina wanted it to. If Henry did want to leave Storybrooke, temporarily or permanently, he'd need to know how to handle himself. What to do and not do. Experience was the best way for him to learn.

_ With Neal? _ She asks herself, her cool down ending at a bench in front of the pond. Regina is right to be skeptical about Neal. Although he has matured in the decade they've been apart, the man is still absentminded – and tends not to thoroughly think through the consequences of his actions. That is a trait of his she's observed during his time in Storybrooke. Even if he does manage to keep Henry safe during a ruckus weekend of football, the thought of her son being exposed to a Neal unfiltered by another opinion is what really makes her uncomfortable with the idea.

_ There's only one solution,  _ she decides, dread forming a heavy ball in her stomach.  _ I'll have to go with them. I only hope Regina thinks that's adequate protection for Henry. _

The chime of her phone returns her to reality. She expects it to be Regina calling with an invitation for drinks as a form of apology – another hallmark of their friendship that's recently developed. Instead, she sees Henry's face on the screen.

“Hey kid, what's up?”

“Do you know what's up with mom?”

“Wait – Regina?”

“Yeah, she just called and said I should stay with you again.” Henry's voice is strained although he's making an effort to hide it. “That's not like her.”

_ No, it certainly isn't.  _ Emma agrees. The brunette never misses a chance to see her son.

“Did you tell her about -.”

“Yeah.”

“She didn't take it well.”

Henry is way too perceptive for a pubescent boy. “No, Henry, she didn't.”

A long silence passes between them before Henry speaks again. “I won't go if she doesn't want me to.”

The bitter resignation in his voice spurs Emma into action. “Let me talk to her again, I think there's more going on here than just a football game.”

Although she can't see him, Emma can tell he's nodding as he replies. “Thank you. Let me know if I can help.”

“How did she sound when she told you to stay?”

“Quiet, no particular emotion.”

_ At least I know what kind of Regina to expect. _ Emma sighs, steeling her nerves for another confrontation. “Thanks Henry, stay safe.”

“You, too, ma.”

_ I never get tired of hearing that.  _ Emma smiles as the call disconnects. The expression fades quickly, the blond standing and beginning to walk back to the cruiser. There are only thirty minutes left in her patrol, by the time she does a circuit of the town she'll be free to see how Regina is doing. Hopefully by then the woman will have calmed down enough to talk rationally about their options.

* * *

After several minutes receiving no response to her knocking and doorbell mashing, Emma lets herself into Regina's house. Unlocking doors is easy enough for her without magic. The magical protections offer no resistance either, Regina having made an exception for the blond in the weave that identifies threats. Entering will alert Regina to her presence, but Emma has no desire to sneak up on an angry Regina anyway.

She hovers in the foyer but Regina still does not appear. Worry gnawing at her, the blond begins a search with both magic and eyes, cautiously feeling for the connection she experienced when last in Regina's domain. The distinct sense of 'nothing' she receives only fuels her steadily rising panic.

Having completed a quick search of the main level Emma takes the stairs two at a time, peering into the dim hallway. Pausing outside Regina's bedroom, a shiver travels down the blond's spine. She can't tell exactly what it is, but there's something on the other side. Pressing a hand against the painted wood, Emma cautiously reaches out with her magic.

Yes, Regina's in there... but something's definitely wrong. The presence beyond the closed door feels cold, almost frigid. And alarmingly distant.

“Regina?,” she asks, fear clogging her throat as she turns the knob and pushes the door open.

In the middle of the room stands a woman, back to the door, her attention fixed on a mirror hanging before her on invisible strings. It's Regina, yet also – not. The outfit she's wearing is outrageous and certainly not from this world.

A gown died black and navy blue, long sleeves and a waist so tight it makes Emma wonder how she can breathe. The bustle of the dress puffs over her hips, making them appear twice the normal size. A burgundy sash crosses from one shoulder, down across her back, then wraps up around her neck. In the mirror's reflection Emma can see that the front of the dress is provocatively revealing, Regina's bust thrust up and out by the constraining fabric. A long silver necklace falls across her chest, the ruby at its base glimmering between the dip of her breasts.

When Emma's eyes finally find Regina's the blond's sense of foreboding increases tenfold. The woman who is and isn't Regina shoots her a devilish smile.

“Come in, won't you?” Before she's drawn breath Emma finds herself fully in the bedroom.

“Close the door behind you.”

A definitive slam tells Emma the object has obeyed Regina’s command. Swallowing, the blond shoulders her confidence and stands straighter. “I came to see if you were ok.”

“How sweet, still living up to your title then – Storybrooke's precious Saviour.” Turning, Regina begins a slow circle around Emma, the heavy make-up around her eyes emphasizing their movements, leaving no doubt about their focus as they slide up and down the blond's body. Resisting the urge to cover herself - because she's fully clothed – Emma pushes aside her tumbling emotions and speaks calmly. “I know you're upset about Henry -.”

“I don't want to talk about Henry.” The words are spoken with so much force Emma forgets what she'd been about to say. Instead, she follows her instincts which are telling her that the entirety of her attention should be on the predictor posing as a cosplayer.

“Wha... what do you want to talk about?” She asks, only a little fearful of the answer.

“Why, you, darling. You and your insistence that you are friend to a villain.” Regina's hair, tucked up under a fancy tiara, catches Emma's eye as the woman leans in. The action puts them in the odd position of the brunette bowing before her, a pose that would seem submissive if Emma did not recognise the look in her companion's gaze. She's seen enough of human nature to recognise a trap.

“You are my friend and you are not a villain.” Emma retorts, tugging some of her magic into her hands. She needs to establish a connection with Regina, bring her back from whatever place she's retreated to. Masks are worn by those who do not want their true nature seen and this is the most elaborate mask Emma's ever seen.

“You can't have it both ways, Saviour.” The woman before her purrs. “Only villains understand other villains. You, a product of true love, cannot go where I've gone.”

The words cut more deeply than Emma expected. Although designed to hurt, the blond suspects this 'evil queen' version of Regina does not know  how they're hurting her. Which is very good news. Emma does not need her deepening affection for Regina used against her.

“Regina, you are not a villain. You left that behind when you left the Enchanted Forest. Remember how you told me that here is so much better because you have choice? You could start over, make yourself a new life.”

“A leopard may change its spots but it cannot change its ways.” Regina takes a step closer, raising her head so that she's gazing directly into Emma's eyes. “That's why you should never let your guard down around one - although it may appear tame.”

Magic tingles in the air. Before it's shaped by the brunette's intent, Emma wraps a restraining spell around Regina. It's the strongest she's ever created, yet she's not sure it'll be strong enough. If Regina wants to hurt her then the blond suspects she will find a way. She's never held any delusion about who's the better magic-user.

Regina struggles for a couple of moments then, when it looks like she isn't going to try something drastic, Emma lets her magic move through the restraining spell. Waves of feeling pass from her to Regina, Emma infusing them with as much positivity as she can.

Where once she would have worried about her feelings being revealed through such an exchange, Emma now knows her magic will merely transmit the sensation, not a specific emotion. Her ‘beyond friendship’ affection for the brunette will be indistinguishable from the other good feelings she transmits. Holding Henry central to the visions she conjures, Emma hopes that the motherly love they share will draw Regina out. After all, he was their point of connection long before knowing each other.

The woman before her does not make a sound. Her eyes are closed tight against the magic, breath coming steadily faster. Emma can see her whole body trembling – and all she wants to do is reach out to Regina. Provide an anchor to the struggling woman. But she waits. Without warning the outrageous outfit melts away, leaving the business-casual ensemble Regina’d worn earlier.

Dropping the restraining spell but not letting up on the positive magic, Emma bends with the brunette as she lowers to her knees, head dropping to face the floor. An indeterminate time later the blond reaches out a cautious hand and touches Regina's shoulder. The contact causes the brunette's head to rise.

“This changes nothing,” The woman whispers, water sparkling in her eyes, lips set in a determined frown. Barely keeping herself together.

“You can't hold him here forever,” Emma replies gently. She isn't sure what's the right thing to say. All she can hope is that her idea will be enough to ease Regina into agreement. “But I don't really trust Neal to properly look after Henry either. That's why I'm going with them.”

“What?” Surprise opens Regina's face, the stress lines that had been prominent only a second ago smoothing.

Smiling softly, Emma nods. “For Henry I will put up with the man who broke my heart.”

The intensity in the gaze Regina levels at her makes Emma want to fall into their depths, draw the woman close and ease some of her fear with physical comfort. Regina's lips are full and damp, shining in the fading sunlight through the window behind Emma.

_ Don't even think about it, _ she chastises herself, slowly pulling back her magic.

“I really don't deserve a friend like you,” the brunette's voice is achingly fragile, long lashes blinking aside moisture.

Moving her hands down, Emma takes Regina's in hers, running a soothing finger over the back of each. “I'm fortunate to have a friend in you,” she states, barely above a whisper.

“Why? Because I keep you on your toes?” Regina's laugh lacks its usual strength, but Emma can tell the brunette is coming back from whatever dark place she'd gone.

“Well, that's one of the reasons.” Emma agrees lightly. “Nothing worth having comes easily, Regina. I learned that lesson early. Being a friend means seeing each other in our shittiest moments. We may need time apart sometimes, but if you want a relationship you work on it.”

_ I hope she doesn't read too much into that _ .

Regina considers this, staring at her hands in Emma's. Finally, she replies. “It's... it's not that I don't want you as a friend -.”

Emma can't help the dread that forms as she hears those words. Is Regina going to end their friendship? 

_ Please no – please no, no, no, _ she chants internally.

“-it's just that I can't always control my reactions. Although... I suppose it's their intensity that's the issue.” The brunette releases a bone-weary sigh. “Let's face it, I'm an emotional wreck – I cursed an entire kingdom to get revenge for an eight-year-old's actions.” Taking a steadying breath, Regina continues, Emma hanging on her every word. “It's not fair to you or Henry. I... I don't think I'm fit to be a friend. Or mother.”

Emma slips one of her hands free to gently cup Regina's cheek, the brunette meeting her gaze with a mix of surprise and nervousness in her expression. “All parents feel that way at some point.” Emma's voice is soft yet firm. “We're not perfect, we don't always make the best decisions. I haven't raised Henry - you have. He is the kind, creative, curious, and confident boy he is because of you.

You have bad days, so do I. With magic in Storybrooke, I think those feelings are harder to hide. The fact that you show yours to me so naturally, well, I guess that's a sign you think I can handle it and I'm grateful for that.”

Her thumb makes a single pass along the planes of Regina's cheek, Emma's gaze softening as she looks on the other woman. “In my very limited experience parenthood seems to involve the constant weighing of risks and possible outcomes. Choosing between risks means you're never going to be completely happy, but you have agency in the decision.”

Reluctantly lowering her hand from Regina's face, Emma gives a fluid wave and suddenly they're both on the bed. She plows on to keep herself from thinking too long about this change of location. “In this case our options are: let Henry go with Neal and I. He has two guardians who care about him and who can mitigate the influence of New York and each other. What is the most likely outcome?”

Regina raises an eyebrow, but answers the question. “He comes home overstimulated.”

Emma smiles. “Yes, but he comes home in one piece. The other option is that we stop him from going. Because he loves us, he may comply gracefully, but what will likely be the long-term outcome?”

“Resentment,” Regina immediately responds. Pulling away from Emma, the brunette props herself against the headboard. “Perhaps you're capable of deeper thought after all.” A small smile is on Regina's face, Emma's heart lifting at the sight.

“I've had a good teacher.” Supporting herself with her arms, Emma leans back, one leg hanging over the side of the bed while the other remains tucked beneath her. “That's another reason it's great having you as a friend. Generally, you're not going 'evil queen' on me – generally you're a passionate, hardworking, intelligent woman whose capacity to care is deeper than anyone I've ever known.” Emma can't help the warmth that infuses her voice, eyes trailing over the bedspread between them. “You help me be a better person for Henry.”

Taking a breath, Emma decides the time is right to build upon the confession she made in the mines. “Regina, if I'd kept Henry when I was eighteen he would be like how I was – selfish, manipulative, desperate. My heart may have been in the right place, but I could never have given him his best shot. My life, my sense of self-worth, was too precarious.” Emma's hands ball in the soft fabric, working past the tightness in her chest to get these long-held thoughts into the open.

“He could have ended up in so many different circumstances. Even though I couldn't give him what he needed I – I gambled giving him away. I worried about it almost constantly at first, then it would hit me randomly through the years. What if he'd ended up in a situation like one of the foster homes I'd been in? I'd entered the system as a baby then been passed from family to family like a bag of dry goods. I became hard, skeptical, unwilling to have faith in people.”

Blinking back a rush of feeling, Emma lifts her gaze to meet Regina's. “Henry is defined by his faith. I could never have broken the curse without him. He sees things others miss and his heart is so – Good. So full of compassion for others. You taught him that. You are the best mother he could have had, evil queen and all. Thanks to you, he believes, yet that belief is balanced by realism.”

Swiping a hand across her face to clear the moisture she's realised is trailing down her cheeks, Emma keeps her voice as steady as possible, eyes dropping to look at Regina's knee in an effort to maintain her composure. “All children start out believing the world is black and white. He wanted to see it that way at first, but now he knows it's not that simple. Who showed him that? You.

You wanted to change for the better and you followed through, working hard everyday to make it a reality. I... I want you to know this so that, if you're worried that Neal and I may decide we're suddenly madly in love again and want to run off with Henry, well, you can silence those fears. 

I would not be doing right by Henry to take him away from you. You're his mother, he loves you, you love him. I may have given birth to him, but you raised him. I want to have a part in his life, but how he's raised is ultimately your decision. Just... just remember that he's the son we love, the son we would give everything for, because of you.”

Silence, the relatively comfortable kind, settles around Emma, encouraging her to peek at Regina's expression. The brunette is deeply absorbed, face a neutral façade, concentration directed inward. As the woman gradually comes out of herself emotions come with her, a mixture of sober determination and unfiltered pleasure lighting her features. The trusting, affectionate smile she imparts to Emma makes the blond fall deeper in love.

“I cannot express how that makes me feel, Emma.” She responds softly. “Thank you is not enough. I know you are honest - you are incapable of being anything else - so I know I can trust you. Although I normally disapprove of the life-threatening heroics that seem to run in your family, I'm thankful you have decided risking your life as my friend is a worthy cause.” Regina runs one hand self-consciously through her hair.

“I may question your plans of action, but never your motives,” she continues. “You have always put Henry's well-being above your own. If you can promise me he will have you as a guardian, then I will allow him to go to the city known as 'The Big Apple'.” A smile more akin to Regina's usual smirk asserts itself, wiping away the final vestiges of Emma's concern.

Slipping her legs down beside the bed, Regina inquires. “Why do they call it that? I do not believe apple trees are any more prevalent.”

Chuckling, Emma unabashedly admires Regina's elegance as the woman stands. How can someone be so composed in any circumstance? Now that Regina has re-established her equilibrium she is the person in charge, the woman who knows how to control a room – who's been called Queen.

Resisting a shiver that has nothing to do with being cold, Emma replies. “I'm not sure, it might have something to do with a statue.” Getting to her own feet, Emma runs her hands over her clothes to prevent herself reaching for the brunette. The time for physical touch has ended. “You think you'll be alright now?”

“For now,” some of the fight momentarily leaves Regina, one hand rising to press against her temple. “I – I still think it's a good idea for Henry to stay with you tonight.”

Recognising that as the monumental gesture of faith it is, Emma steps closer and lets her hand squeeze the brunette's shoulder. “When not battling threats to our safety we're struggling to navigate people. Still, I'd rather make that effort and have the occasional bad day than be alone.”

A knowing smile spreads Regina's lips. “I agree.”

Forcing her hand away from the woman's tempting warmth, Emma takes a measured step back. “Henry will likely want to hear how our talk went. I – I should probably get going.”

“Would you like a drink before you go?”

A surge of eagerness has Emma jumping at the offer. “Yes, please!” The knowing look Regina levels at her has the blond smiling sheepishly.

“Cider?”

“Got anything stronger?”

The two women share a look that connects them over years, the comfortable atmosphere acquiring an undertone of charged energy.

“I'm not a sucker for nostalgia,” Regina states, striding toward the bedroom door, “but our first encounter will forever be imprinted in my memory.”

“I made that much of an impression, huh?” Emma teases, following close.

“You could say that,” Regina smirks, darting a look at the blond before stepping through the now open door.

Suddenly finding it hard to breathe – which is totally ridiculous because the look in Regina's eyes had definitely  not been scintillating – Emma steadies herself before continuing in the brunette's wake. The following fifteen minutes of drinking are relaxed, helping to further alleviate the stress of the past thirty. Emma is relieved to see Regina is almost completely back to normal when they part.

“Call me if you ever need anything.” She tells the woman, stepping out onto the front porch.

“Alright.”

“Any time,” Emma emphasizes, one booted foot still on the doorstep.

“I don't need a babysitter,” Regina retorts.

“Of course not.” Pausing, Emma wonders how she should say goodbye. They are beyond strict societal niceties, but she certainly can't say 'love you'. After a moment of indecision fraught with internal fighting she finally says, “take care, Regina.”

The softness she's only ever seen Regina bestow on Henry briefly touches the woman's face. “You too, Emma.”

The feeling that passes between them is indescribable and comfortable which is all that concerns the blond. Part of her continues worrying about the brunette, but at least she knows Regina can get through another day. As she drives away she finds herself wishing Henry was going home that night despite Regina's wishes.

_ Being alone in that huge house can't be good for her. _

For a second Emma considers what it would be like to live with the other woman, then she squashes the thought before it can take root. It is far too dangerous to think along those lines.

When she gets to the apartment Henry immediately asks how it'd gone. She provides the stipulations on his going, along with a very brief overview of how the decision had come into being. Although he's disappointed at not being able to spend the whole weekend with only his dad, he's obviously thrilled about going regardless. When he asks if he should call to thank Regina Emma advises him against it, recommending instead that he go home first thing tomorrow to thank her in person.

After an evening of playing video games with Henry, Emma kisses her son goodnight and turns out his light. Pausing at the foot of the loft stairs, she gazes at his prone form on the cot, a flood of aching warmth spreading through her body.

_ Loving someone means you give them guidance and the freedom to discover themselves... no matter how much you want to hold on to them. _

Stepping quietly up the stairs, Emma begins the routine procedure of undressing for bed. The mundane task doesn't keep her mind from wandering further down the introspective path it's started on. 

_ Doing what's best for them, no matter what it means for you. _

Flopping down onto her stomach, Emma plants her face in the pillow. 

_ It's definitely a lesson I need to keep front of mind. _

She's determined to do her best by Regina, even if that means hiding the true depth of her feelings. Love her - as a friend. Be there for her, in whatever capacity she requires.

One hand presses against her chest in a vain attempt to ease the weight that's seated there.

_ I will not let my selfish desires become a burden for a woman who's already carrying far too many.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters are uploaded once a week (Sunday).


	19. Discoveries

_~Regina_

Henry's weekend in the big city concludes with no ill consequences. Emma reports one encounter with a drunk after the game, but that had ended with said drunkard in a trashcan after the blond had become fed up with his catcalling. Henry himself regales Regina with details about what they'd done almost every moment of the two days in New York. Only about a quarter of them are truly interesting, however, she gladly listens to participate in her son's happiness.

While Henry's version consists of excited renditions of architecture, people, and activities, Emma's provides more insight into the dynamic that had existed between the three. Neal had thoroughly enjoyed spoiling Henry, a phenomenon that Emma had only slightly mitigated. That Regina had been expecting. What had been more revealing is that Henry had often questioned Neal about his life growing up, wondering why he'd decided to take certain paths and not others.

“Henry's astute curiousity caught Neal off-guard,” Emma states, grinning as she conjures a web of magic. Although they are technically working on the blond's complex spell-weaving, the lesson is more of a cover for the two women to discuss the events of the weekend.

“He hadn't noticed that before?” Regina inquires incredulously.

“It's always been aimed at... less personal topics I think,” Emma replies, using her fingers to help visualise intertwining two of the strands hovering before her. Regina notes how the blond's affinity with light has extended into her weaving. While Regina's constructions resemble pulsating veins of energy, Emma's glow as she works with them, each colour bright in the air around them.

“Was he honest with Henry?” The brunette inquires.

“As far as I can tell, he never outright lied at least.” Taking a step back, Emma admires her work. “There, think I got it.”

“Test it then.” Regina watches, arms crossed over her chest as the blond moves toward the vault doorway. A moment later she cries out in shock, the brunette rolling her eyes. “Why are you so surprised it worked?”

“I just – wasn't expecting it to be so strong.” Emma's grimace brings Regina to her feet, a practised hand using magic to search her friend's body for injuries. The spell has done nothing more than shock Emma, exactly as it's designed to.

“You couldn't pass through?”

“No. It hurts so much because I tried for a while,” Emma's gaze intensifies as she watches Regina perform her magical diagnosis. Only once Regina steps away do Emma's eyes resume their casual expression.

“Good, now I'm going to try. Pay attention and see if the alarm spell triggers.”

“Kay,” Emma says, moving to just behind Regina.

As the brunette nears the archway, an electrical current makes her skin crawl. When she continues pressing forward, an actual shock ripples over her, bringing with it a paralysis that prevents further progress. Standing in the radius just long enough to test the spell's stamina, Regina finally steps back, taking a deep breath to prevent herself from displaying any signs of discomfort.

“I felt it.” Emma states, closely watching the brunette.

“As did I. The warning, paralysis, and pain threads are all active and working harmoniously.”

“Is there an invisibility layer that can be added?”

“Yes, but why would you need that? We can only see the web because of the Reveal spell.”

“I mean, I'd like to make the area contained within it invisible.” Emma clarifies. “Given my circumstances, a spell that keeps people out is of no use if people can see right into my space.”

“Getting tired of living with your parents?” Regina chuckles, resisting – for perhaps the dozenth time that evening – the urge to brush aside a strand of hair that's come loose from Emma's ponytail and planted itself on her damp forehead.

“Don't get me wrong, I love them, but it is probably time I got my own place.” Regina sees the smile beginning to slip as the blond turns away. “Especially if they're planning on growing their family.”

“Emma,” Regina says, this time letting her hand touch the blond's arm. “How do you feel about that?”

“Oh, alright. I'm glad for them, but I don't want to lose what I have now either.”

“They could never replace you.”

Emma looks over her shoulder at the brunette. “I know, but feelings don't always obey logic,” She smiles sheepishly, her eyes connecting with Regina's.

“Don't I know it.” Swallowing the lump that's suddenly in her throat, the brunette gives a supportive smile and lowers her hand. “I still think it's a good idea for you to get your own place. If for no other reason than you'll be able to get a good night's sleep. A sleep-deprived Sheriff is not going to do Storybrooke any favours.”

“True.” Turning back to her still glowing web, Emma begins the equally delicate task of unravelling the spells. “I'll miss having someone to live with, though. I've had enough of living alone.”

The image of Emma making pancakes in her kitchen – that illuminating smile gracing her lips – comes unbidden into Regina's mind. Pushing it aside, she swipes agitated hands down her body, unable to think of an appropriate reply. Instead, she returns them to a previous topic – and one aspect in particular she's been concerned about since Emma went to The Big Apple.

“How was it being in such close quarters with Neal?”

“Awkward.” Emma responds distantly, attention focused on the threads before her. “He hasn't completely given up on 'us', but isn't pushing me. On the one hand, I'm glad he isn't pushing; on the other, I wish he'd just give up so I didn't have to treat his feelings so gently.” Tension is spreading through Emma's shoulders, the brunette's irritation with Rumpelstiltskin's son increasing tenfold. “I don't want to hurt him if I can avoid it, mostly for Henry's sake, but I also don't want him maintaining hope when he shouldn't.”

“Don't bother with his feelings. He's too dense to get it otherwise.”

Emma's carefree laugh makes Regina's heart skip a beat. “I wish it was as easy for me as you make it sound.” The final thread dissolves between her fingers, the blond shifting to smile at her – what is that smile exactly? If it had been directed at Henry, or her parents, Regina would have described it as loving. Directed at her? Definitely not.

“I'm glad it's over then, for your sake.” Regina states stiffly, tidying up what had already been a perfectly stacked pile of scrolls.

“I heard rumour of a dance...” Emma fishes, hands tucking into her pant pockets.

“The school one?”

“No, apparently there's one for adults as well.”

“Ah, yes. Well, the astute observation was made that if the adults have their own dance they can see how 'safe' it would be for preteens,” Regina makes no attempt to hide her exasperation over this decision. “Since Thanksgiving is next weekend the council agreed that this adult dance should be held Dec 6th. If no drama arises from the event then the grade eights will have theirs the following Saturday.”

“I hardly call that fair.” Emma retorts. “Adults can get into far more drama than thirteen-year-olds.”

“My thoughts exactly, but certain... more uptight individuals are insistent.”

“Will there be alcohol at this dance?”

“No, which is the only way I could get through such a function. I, therefore, have no intention of attending.”

“Oh, well, at least that should mitigate the potential drama.” The blond's sudden muted interest peaks Regina's curiousity.

“Will you go?” She inquires nonchalantly.

“I should, I'm the Sheriff after all. Have to keep the peace.”

“Certainly David could babysit.”

Emma chuckles. “I'm sure he'd rather enjoy the evening with Mary Margaret – Snow -.”

Regina can tell her friend doesn't want to attend which is completely understandable. No alcohol and two men fighting to win her over is sure to make the evening a tediously painful affair. Out of nowhere – because this is very likely the most ludicrous thing she's ever done – Regina finds herself voicing an idea. “Perhaps another event can be held, girls only, after the adult dance.”

Surprise renders Emma momentarily speechless. Another laugh bubbles up from Regina's core. Although it includes a good dose of self-conscious embarrassment, its eruption brings her genuine pleasure.

Henry shares some of Emma's expressions, but the blond takes reactions to a whole new level. Emma's lack of control over her expressions is something Regina has only seen in children. Perhaps this is how everyone outside Storybrooke acts – all she knows for certain is that schooling one's features is a skill taught early in the Enchanted Forest.

Regina does not regret casting the curse for many reasons. One that has only recently come to mind is that, had Emma grown up in the royal court as she'd been destined to, her free spirit would have been tempered by societal niceties and lessons in political manipulation. This spontaneous,  pure Emma is someone Regina finds both endearing and frustrating – and she wouldn't have it any other way.

“Whe – when is the adult dance going till?” Emma finally manages.

“Oh, some perfectly reasonable hour, 8pm I believe. Since there's no alcohol to alleviate the tedious atmosphere, I imagine a decent percentage of participants will leave the venue early.”

“And this suggestion of yours, hosting an 'all girls' party afterwards – I suppose it's not going to be approved by the parent council?”

Regina makes a derisive sound before replying. “What do you think?”

Emma's shock fades, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Given everything that's happened recently I think a care-free party – with alcohol – is warranted. Letting off some steam sounds really good. So does no men.”

“They only cause trouble,” Regina agrees, smirking. Sliding past Emma, she leads the way out of the work room, up the stone stairs, and out of the vault. The blond is a few paces behind her the whole way, just far enough back to make Regina self-conscious about her choice of pants. The flush that comes over her thinking about Emma looking at her backside cools when they are standing outside and the blond is smiling normally.

“Wednesday planning meeting?”

“Yes,” Regina replies. “Identifying risk is the topic.”

“I can sum that up in one sentence: don't make deals with Gold,” Emma states matter-of-factly.

“Or sign any magical contracts,” Regina puts in, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“See you then,” Emma says, her voice softening.

Having acknowledged the Saviour's farewell with a nod, Regina begins the walk back to her house via a shortcut through the woods. What snow they've had has melted, the temperature hovering just above freezing. Now that she's informed about the past weekend's activities Regina can look ahead to what awaits in the coming weeks.

With three magical theory classes under her belt she's confident that no casualties will occur. They're always well attended, mostly by adults, but the third class saw a few more children. Rumpelstiltskin continues to be present but, as yet, has not confronted any of the teachers over their material. This coming weekend is Thanksgiving which Regina is hosting. 

Although she's held many similar events in the past, this will be the first time she hosts for her newly united family. Each member comes with baggage, but the brunette is confident that Snow will do her utmost to ensure it's a saccharine affair. At Henry's request Neal will be among those present and, if she's honest with herself, he's the person she's least looking forward to entertaining. Regina's one consolation is that Emma will be just as unimpressed with his presence.

_ And my feelings are in no way related to their prior relationship or Neal's persistent interest in Emma, _ she tells herself, pulling her collar up higher as a light drizzle begins.

Fantasies of the blond still occur on a regular basis. She has no problem with their existence, beyond the discomfort they sometimes elicit in direct interactions with Emma. However, a far more disturbing element reared its head today – one Regina suspects she's been ignoring hints of for a while.

The brunette has been inclined to attribute her depth of affection for the blond as a side-effect of their friendship. She does, after all, have very little experience with positive long-term relationships. Desire is something she understands as an adult dynamic. She knows how to control it in herself and others. She knows love for her son - a deep, all-consuming emotion that drives her life-force. Loving him from a distance is something she's getting better at, but that represents a change in the form of their relationship, not the intensity of her feelings.

Affection, the type shared between friends and family, is a relatively new emotional horizon for Regina. Prolonged exposure and common interests strengthen it, but there are limited expectations and risks. What she's begun to recognise growing inside herself for Emma is deeper than friendly affection, yet not as strong as her love for Henry.

As she steps into her entryway, Regina mulls over all the components she can identify: sexual desire, anticipation for the next time she'll see Emma, spontaneous contemplation of the blond, feelings of loneliness and wishing for the woman's company. The intensity of the anticipation combined with sexual desire convinces Regina that she is on very dangerous ground indeed.

Working on dinner is both productive and therapeutic. As she chops and cooks ingredients Regina can ignore the revelation sitting like a stone in her stomach. When Snow drops Henry off from their after school sojourn in the park, Regina greets him with the same expression and feeling she always does. He remains in the kitchen as she finishes cooking, chatting happily about the day and upcoming dance. She does not think about her suggestion to Emma. Soon it will need to be faced, but not tonight.

They eat dinner at the table, then dessert in the living room after Henry has finished his homework. Regina makes it through all their usual routines without thinking about her revelation. Upon opening the door to her bedroom, however, the memory of Emma confronting the Evil Queen – how she'd talked Regina back to herself and the honest sincerity of her startling beliefs about Regina as a mother - make it impossible to ignore Emma's effect any longer.

Trembling fingers close her bedroom door behind her. Pressing her back to the painted wood, Regina slides down until she's sitting on the floor, arms crossed over her knees. Letting her forehead fall onto her arms, Regina takes deep, calming breaths.

She'd hoped never to face this again. Love - romantic love – was violently torn away from her so long ago that never having it again is preferable to facing the vulnerability that comes with such a connection. Henry has been her sole weakness. Nearly losing him had almost killed her. How can she possibly live with – this?

What she feels for Emma has the potential to be much more than it is and Regina has no doubt it will deepen a little with every interaction. The possibility for love that exists in her affection for the blond is powerful. Regina knows the strength of her emotions. Preventing this from destroying the friendship she shares with the Saviour is something she can handle, but is a complication she would have rather avoided.

Regina knows herself well enough to be confident she'll never give this secret away. Its capacity to hurt her is enormous and the brunette is well practiced in self-preservation. This comforting assurance does not stop tears of frustration from leaking down her cheeks as she undresses, puts on her nightgown, and crawls under the covers.

_ I guess there really is no rest for the wicked, _ she determines, losing herself in recollections of Emma's beautiful light magic.

* * *

“A word if you please, Regina.” Rumpelstiltskin intercepts her as she's making her way out the back door of the town hall. The magical theory class has just ended, resulting in crowds flooding out the main doors. For this reason Regina's made it a habit to use the back exit, a tendency that has apparently been noticed by the imp. It's also just her luck that Henry is having a sleepover at a friend's meaning the man's caught her alone.

“Yes, Mr. Gold.” Hopefully putting subtle emphasis on his Storybrooke title will encourage that side of his personality, a personality that's far less threatening than a conniving Dark One.

“First of all, let me say well done on today's lesson. I have no doubt the audience will find it... useful.” His mouth crooks, suggesting he found the whole affair amusing. “Although how those without magic could benefit from knowing that innate magic will go to any lengths to protect its user is beyond me.”

“Thank you.” Whether Rumplestilskin sees that bit of information as a threat or not is irrelevant to Regina. After all, these sessions are meant to help Storybrooke’s citizens protect themselves from someone like him.

“But,” he continues, “that is not why I’m here.” The man shifts his weight, the cane on which his hands perch glinting in the stark light. “The real reason I've come to see you concerns a certain – development.” 

“I'm afraid I don't follow you,” Regina replies, her mind racing through all the possible scenarios he could be referring to.

“Ah, so you haven't noticed anything unusual since you and Miss Swan – Emma – cast the protections in the caves?” He inquires, his expression giving nothing away.

_ What is he jabbering on about?  _ She asks herself, desperate for some clue to help unravel his meaning. Rumpelstiltskin having all the information about something leaves everyone vulnerable.

“I just wanted to ask since something seems to have shifted since that casting.” His gaze narrows, hair on the back of Regina’s neck beginning to rise. “Something that appears to be… connected to you and the Saviour.”

The man's serious face erases any possibility that he might be playing her for his own amusement. Whatever he's alluding to is of genuine interest to him. That could very well mean that it's a threat to her family.

“All is as it was, Mr. Gold.” She replies calmly. “I am continuing Emma's lessons and, thankfully, the protections have kept out any further threats to us – waking or dreaming.”

“For that I am grateful.” His head dips in acknowledgement. “I have a family to think of, one that includes my grandson.” His small, not at all reassuring smile, sets Regina's nerves further on edge. “If I suspected anything might endanger or upset him I would do anything in my power to prevent it. I'm sure you understand what I mean.”

“Yes, I do,” she responds in a clipped tone. “While I appreciate your concern for my son, I assure you he is in good hands.”

“I do not doubt it. Well, must be off, dearie. Thank you for your time.” Turning smoothly - too smoothly for someone with a bum leg - the man walks around the corner in the direction of the front entrance.

It's only while driving home that a terrible thought occurs to Regina: has the imp figured out she and Emma share an affinity? The nature of his questions hadn't leant themselves to that, but this is Rumpelstiltskin, the man who thrives on riddles and misdirection. The only way to know for sure is to backtrack using what clues his questions provided. 

He'd mentioned their implementation of the protection spell in the caves, meaning that it's integral to his knowledge. She could go there and see if the man has been poking around, but if he's monitoring the area doing so right away will reveal that she's concerned about his interest. She'll have to wait at least a day before investigating.

_ If he wasn't referring to the affinity then what else can it be? _ She wonders, brow creased with tension as she pulls into her driveway.  _ It's definitely to do with me and Emma. _

Only when she goes to put the vehicle in park does Regina realise she's gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles have turned white. He can't know about her feelings for the Saviour – he's observant, but she hasn't changed her public behaviour towards Emma. They are friends, and not particularly close ones, when out where they might be seen. The man keeps tabs on everything that happens in town, but all of the truly revealing moments that have occurred with Snow's daughter did so in places from which his touch is barred: her house and her vault.

_ Except the bridge.  _ All colour drains from her face.  _ He might have witnessed the bridge incident. _

Further contemplation has the brunette deciding this is unlikely since Rumpelstiltskin is only now confronting her and what happened at the bridge has nothing to do with the cave protections. Regardless of what exactly he knows, Regina needs to be on her guard. If he knows about their affinity he could use it against them. Any magic they perform has to be shielded from him, or cloaked with tension as would normally occur when two magic users combine their energy. She's been sure to do so when they perform together in the magical theory classes. The only other places where she and Emma spend any significant time together outside of Regina's protections are at Granny's Diner, the Station, or the Rabbit Hole.

_ I'll set alerts on each of his observation spells _ , she decides,  _ then I can filter the information he receives about us through them. _ It will take a lot of energy to do, but at least she'll only need to monitor them when she and the Saviour are present in the same location.

_ I'll have to do the same at the school the night of the dance,  _ Regina acknowledges.  _ It will have to be extremely subtle since not just the imp will be monitoring that event. _

If she really is hosting a get-together after the school dance – which is almost certain since just an hour ago Emma had expressed excitement for the event – it will have to be in a place where she will not have to be on constant alert. Outside of her vault and home there's only one place where she can utilise powerful enough protections.

“The apprentice's mansion.”

Although its magic has been sealed since she incorporated it into Storybrooke, Regina knows how to use the presently dormant, but enormously strong, currents of magic that exist within its construction. The size of the building also makes it a suitable location for large gatherings. She'll have to explore the place, reacquaint herself with its magical constructs, but Regina's confident she can ensure the secret she and Emma share is kept within its walls.

“Well, there's no time like the present.” With that statement voiced, Regina teleports herself to the front door of the secluded house and lets herself in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters are uploaded once a week (Sunday).


	20. Thanksgiving

_~Emma_

_ Regina's wardrobe is going to kill me, _ Emma thinks exasperatedly, trying not to stare at the lush, full breasts on display in the woman's evening dress. This outfit isn't as revealing as the 'Evil Queen' gown, but its subtlety leads one's thoughts over curves and down into the tantalising mystery of what still lies hidden. It's also not as fancy as the one she'd worn at the fairies’ thank you gathering, but Emma still feels woefully under-dressed in her black pants and dark purple blouse.

The blouse is a recent addition to her wardrobe. Emma doesn't go clothes shopping often, but when Neal insisted on showing Henry the wonders of a New York mall, she'd found herself wandering a ladies' clothes store. The blouse's colour had brought on such vivid vibes of Regina she'd been unable to say no to it. The article now has the dubious honour of being one of two blouses she owns.

Emma's very interested to see Regina's reaction to her ensemble - she's even adorned small silver earrings and brought black dress shoes to wear once she's stepped out of her boots. Unfortunately, Regina barely looks at her, acknowledging the blond with a brief glance and smile before turning her attention to Mary Margaret and David.

_ Why is she giving them so much attention?  _ Emma asks herself moodily, _ she doesn't even like them! _

Refusing to let her disappointment ruin the evening, Emma puts on a broad smile and follows her mother into Regina's kitchen. The space looks as though it's been plucked straight out of a Martha Stewart magazine. Fancy dishes, each painted with a visual representation of its contents, are lined up attractively over the island. A turkey and ham are illuminated in the oven, their glisten evident through the polished glass. 

When her guests express their drink preferences, Regina removes two bottles of wine from the cooler, expertly removing corks with a satisfied smile. The vintages are poured into crystal glasses that sparkle in the soft light, Emma feeling wholly out of place as she gingerly accepts hers.

“Wow,” David says as they step into the dining room. “She certainly knows how to entertain.”

“Years of practice,” Mary Margaret explains, although she looks just as impressed.

Henry is stationed at the head of the table as they enter - his smile luminescent. “Welcome!” He says suavely, smoothly dipping into a bow.

“Oh Henry, you look so handsome!” Her mother gushes, hands raising to touch him.

“Don't ruffle his collar,” David jokes, glancing at the elegant dishware set out in six settings.

“Did Regina do your hair?” Emma asks, admiring how it's swept neatly back from his face.

“I did it all on my own,” her son replies proudly, his posture, outfit, and expression bringing tears to her eyes.

_ Where is the boy who came to get me in Boston?  _ Emma asks herself, watching as Henry seats his family with grace and pleasure.  _ He's growing up so fast. Does Regina feel this everyday? _

His adoptive mother appears at that moment carrying a bowl of salad. The contents is such a diverse array of coloured lettuces and nuts that Emma finds herself willingly accepting some to satiate her curiousity. The fact that the lettuce's bitter taste melds perfectly with the sweet dressing and savoury nuts prompts her to wonder if she's been eating salad wrong her whole life.

When David offers to carve the turkey Emma can see the war inside their hostess, yet she accepts and appears only slightly miffed when the slices are uneven. Neal's arrival adds an awkward edge to what has thus far been an agreeable atmosphere, but the man is gracious enough that the influence is minimal.

Emma's placed herself near the head of the table where Regina and Henry are seated, Mary Margaret and David to her right, Neal beside Henry. Quiet classical music eases them into the magnificent dinner, each person genuinely pleased by the quality of the succulent food. Most of the conversation revolves around Henry and the upcoming dance. Neal's glances in her direction during the latter subject cause dread to assert itself in Emma's stomach.

Emma anticipates the adult dance to be a painful affair, but at least she'll have Regina's after party to look forward to. David has already agreed to take the night shift and Mary Margaret will be supervising Henry. Emma's been waiting for an opportunity to ask Regina if she needs any help setting up for the event but as the evening moves along she realises she might not get a chance. Even though the brunette is seated directly on her left, Regina is engaged in conversation with the rest of the table almost constantly. What food she takes is eaten slowly, a mostly genuine smile on her lovely face. The longer this goes on the more Emma suspects this avoidance is intentional but, for the life of her, cannot figure out what she's done to warrant such treatment.

Distracting herself with food and banter keeps her rising unhappiness at bay. Despite Regina's apparent disinterest in her, Emma is sincerely enjoying the atmosphere. The histories of those present is steeped in conflict, yet somehow they've managed to arrive at this moment: sharing a fantastic meal with smiles and the occasional eye-roll.

_ None of it would be possible without Henry, _ Emma acknowledges, laughing along with everyone when Neal and Henry perform a tribute to Charlie Chaplin's dance of the dinner rolls.

Mary Margaret, Blue, Regina, Gold – everyone in Storybrooke speaks of fate, but Emma knows free will is woven into each narrative. Villains have second chances, heroes can fall from grace – some of it can be foretold, yet it's ultimately choices that make each path. People are selfish, yet capable of incredible compassion. Someone who acts a certain way their whole life can turn around and do something completely unexpected.

Both Regina and Gold could have reverted to how they'd been in the Enchanted Forest once magic came to Storybrooke, yet they hadn't. Each had worked toward being better people – for those they loved. They hadn't always succeeded, but they'd continued trying.

Emma’d once thought she'd be alone forever – adrift from whatever background had loosed her into a cold, unforgiving world. But now she’s here: surrounded by her family. Since discovering Henry, her parents, and Regina, Emma has come to believe in the power of love to connect across any boundary.

_ Like threads in a spell,  _ she muses, taking another sip of wine as Mary Margaret seats herself behind the small piano in Regina's great room. The space is one Emma's seen little of in her acquaintance with the brunette. The gleaming hardwood floor warms the room, cream paneling and pale green accents adding to the comforting atmosphere.

Henry is standing behind his grandmother's left shoulder, avidly listening to a story from her childhood as Mary Margaret's fingers ghost over the keys. David and Neal are cleaning the dishes, leftovers already stashed in take-home containers. Regina'd been overseeing the post-dinner ritual so it's a surprise when their hostess strides into the room, leaving the two men alone in her kitchen.

Pausing to take in the scene, the brunette then moves to join Emma by the small buffet table. Thoughts of engaging her are erased, however, when Mary Margaret begins playing in earnest, the soothing melody clearing Emma's mind. The piece morphs from introspective tranquility to gathering energy, rising on a glorious crescendo of sound.

A sixth sense brings Emma out of the music and directs her attention to the woman beside her. Regina's focus is honed on the blond, her lips parted slightly – eyes an abyss of darkness. Upon realising she's been caught looking, the brunette blushes, then, likely in an attempt to save face, smiles in a sultry way. Heat immediately floods Emma's body, her heart performing happy flips.

“You look nice tonight,” Regina comments, shifting her gaze to her wine glass.

“Thank you,” Emma replies, inwardly ecstatic. “It was sort of a ploy.” Chuckling self-consciously, she elaborates. “I was nervous about tonight and hoped that a formal appearance would encourage positive relations.” It's partially the truth. She'd really been hoping for Regina to notice her like she had the night of Blue's celebration. Being noticed by Regina is an intoxicating feeling.

“Well you achieved the result you were hoping for,” Regina smiles, taking a sip then peeking at Emma as she moistens ruby lips.

_ Oh fuck _ , Emma thinks as her knees weaken. Thankfully, the wall is already supporting most of her weight. “Wha... what did you think of dinner?”

“The food was excellent, the company – bearable.” Regina places her glass on the buffet, turning her attention to the impromptu performance on display before them. Henry is pretending to dance with a partner, one hand on their waist, the other holding an invisible hand. His eyes are closed, lost in the music and a vision of his own creation. He's not yet ashamed to show his sensitive, imaginative side to them. Emma hopes he never will be.

“He's perfect,” Regina whispers, arms crossed over her waist. Her smile is soft - part happy and part sad. “My – our – son is exactly how I hoped he'd be.”

“He's loved by everyone who meets him,” Emma states, fascinated by the intensity with which Regina is watching Henry.

“That is the only way I hope to ever owe your old flame,” Regina says quietly, “without him we'd have no son.”

“Neither Neal or I would have chosen him,” Emma replies quietly, reminded of the shame she still carries. Shame for how much she'd hated Henry when she'd discovered her pregnancy.

Hated – yet also loved. Even then. She'd never imagined herself as a mother, but when he'd been growing inside her she'd realised part of her wanted that future. The decision to give him up had been the hardest she'd ever had to make, but her choice had been the right one. For most of her life Emma hadn't looked much farther ahead than a week, yet here she was – watching the son she'd spent so many years separated from – grow up.

_I've missed so much._ Tears prick her eyes, a revelation pulling free of Emma's tumbling emotions. _I – I want to raise a child of my own._ _One that I can watch grow-up from the start, facing all the challenges and joys that responsibility brings._

A child that would depend on her, then spread its wings to take flight into the world. What Regina had given Henry was the most precious gift anyone could bestow.

“Why did you never adopt another child?” Emma asks, the thrumming energy inside her turning its focus on Regina.

The brunette looks at her strangely, unsure where Emma's inquiry is coming from. Eventually, she peers back out at the room where their son is still dancing and replies. “I was a single mother with a town to run. Sure it wasn't terribly hard, but that and a child took all my time and energy. I couldn't have supported another.”

“Do you want another?” Emma steps closer to Regina, the woman's response the only thing that matters in this moment.

“Yes.” The brunette replies without hesitation. Her voice staggeringly soft. “I would love another child.”

The admittance is so quiet Emma doesn't think she'd have heard it if she wasn't standing so near. Later she'll decide alcohol must really have addled her judgment when she takes Regina's hands and says, just as quietly. “I – I'd like to be a mother again, too.”

Emma's breath catches at the profound warmth that shapes Regina's expression. She doesn't know how – perhaps it's her magic reaching out to the brunette – but Emma knows without a shred of doubt that Regina understands what she means. That the intensity of her feelings have been transmitted – and accepted.

Her body is paralysed by the scalding heat in Regina's fathomless eyes, the woman squeezing her hands as a tender smile penetrates to the core of Emma's being.

“You'd make a great mother, Emma.”

Entranced and filled with more love than she's ever experienced, Emma instinctively leans closer – just as Regina pulls away. The heat pulsing through her fingers disappears and Emma blinks, trying to make sense of what's just happened. She watches as though from another realm as Henry takes his adoptive mother's hands and leads her into the centre of the room. Their faces aglow with happiness.

Swallowing, Emma fights the arcing pain in her chest with logic. Considering what she'd been about to do she's grateful for the interruption.

_ This way there's no awkward embarrassment _ , she reasons,  _ no backpedaling to explain myself without revealing my feelings. _

Once again, Henry has created a bridge between them. This one saving her from herself.

Trying to stamp down the melancholy threatening to overtake her, Emma focuses on the radiant couple moving effortlessly around the shining floor. Henry's most recent growth spurt has put him almost eye-to-eye with Regina. Given his parents' heights, Emma expects him to surpass his adoptive mother and maybe even her.

Wrapping her hands around her body, Emma finds herself unable to prevent Regina's parting words from drifting back into her thoughts. More dangerous than the daydreams, admiration, and sexual fantasies are moments when Emma lets herself imagine a life shared more intimately with the brunette. 

Waking up every morning to a warm body who looks wild and natural, puttering around the kitchen making breakfast together, then being joined by Henry. Driving Henry to school on the way to the Station, their son happy to have both his mothers always around. Kissing Regina goodbye at the door - her soft, full lips stirring the desire to let Storybrooke fend for itself and spend the day wrapped in the arms of the woman she loves.

Emma tries not to linger on these imaginings, yet they surface in quiet moments when thoughts of what she wants from life come to the fore. Now, thanks to this conversation, a new element has been added to her fantasy – Regina soothing a crying infant in the nursery; Emma bouncing a little blond toddler on her knee; Henry and his sister playing catch in the park while she and Regina sit on a bench. Arms wrapped comfortably around each other.

_ It's escapism fantasy, _ Emma tells herself as she watches Regina spin away from Henry, dark hair and dress swirling hypnotically.  _ Why do I insist on torturing myself with visions that cannot exist? _ The melancholy seeps into her bones, Emma squeezing her body tighter.  _ All I've ever wanted is a family and now I have one. I should be content – not wasting energy on impossible dreams. _

Emma is relieved when David and Neal enter the room to prevent further collapse of her emotional equilibrium. She's not, however, pleased when Neal makes a move toward her with a look she could recongise from a mile away. A surge of thankfulness sweeps through her when her father redirects Neal's attention to something involving Henry. Moments later Henry and Regina part, one bowing, the other curtsying to loud applause.

Emma's heart lifts when she realises Henry is moving toward her, eagerly accepting his invitation to dance. Mary Margaret is playing a waltz now, although the knowledge does Emma no good since she is unaware of the proper steps. Henry must have taken lessons since he glides effortlessly through the moves, smiling supportively when she inevitably messes up. By the song's conclusion she's achieved some competence and is feeling buoyant from the experience.

Her intention to take a time out is thwarted when Henry turns her into the arms of her father, David's smile somehow mixing mischievousness and affection. “May I have this dance, princess?”

Flushing with pleasure, Emma laughs. “Of course, dad.”

As they rotate to the piano's slower pace, Emma notices Regina and Neal also dancing – very awkwardly – near the doorway. The sight elicits a mix of emotions, humour being the strongest. Neither participant looks happy about the situation. Regina's jaw is set with determination, her body angled to put as much distance between herself and Neal as she can. Her partner is looking anywhere but at her, more often than not aiming his glances at Emma. Why the two would be dancing together is beyond her understanding – perhaps it's further proof that even this world has its share of miracles.

Mary Margaret ends the song and is applauded as she stands. “Thank you,” she exclaims happily.

“Thank  you !” Emma responds enthusiastically, embracing her mother. “That was beautiful!”

“I'm sorry you couldn't dance as well,” Henry puts in, straightening his suit.

“Well a certain someone will just have to court me next Saturday,” Mary Margaret states, casting a meaningful look in David's direction.

“Who would like some dessert?” Regina asks, smiling politely.

“Me please,” Henry instantly responds and they all follow mother and son into the dining room.

“Did I hear rumour of a girls-only dance happening afterwards?” Neal inquires of Emma as they seat themselves in the same places they'd occupied at dinner.

“You must have, unless you should be booking a medical appointment,” Regina quips, placing homemade apple pie in the middle of the table.

Emma barely withholds her snort, catching her mother's eye. Mary Margaret tries to make up for Regina's rudeness by hijacking the conversation. “Henry and I will be watching a movie together while the event is happening. Which one is it again, Henry?”

“Batman,” he pipes up, “the one with Michael Keaton.”

“That's a classic,” Neal says smiling, although he's still casting glances at Emma. Regina leaves the room to prepare coffee and tea, yet the blond does not doubt she's listening in.

“Where did this all girls dance come from?” Neal continues.

“It was Regina's suggestion,” Emma responds, hoping he'll drop it. Given what she'd just been fantasizing about, challenges concerning the brunette's motives or character are liable to set her off more violently than usual.

_ And the evening's been going so well. _

“Won't you want to go home afterwards?” Neal pushes.

“The idea of a girls-only get together appeals to me,” she responds flippantly. “I only ever interact with most of Storybrooke's residents in a professional aspect. This will give me an opportunity to become more of a person to them, perhaps encourage women in troubled situations to come forward.” She pauses, looks around the table, then shrugs. “Plus, it'll be good to have an alcoholic beverage after a nun-approved gathering.”

David is the only one who laughs outright, although Henry and Mary Margaret are smiling. Neal still does not seem willing to drop the subject, making Emma wonder if Regina said something to him while they were dancing. Whether or not that suspicion is true, Regina's appearance effectively silences his line of questioning and dessert is still a relatively comfortable affair.

Bellies full of good food and warm beverages results in yawns circulating around the table until David suggests they call it a night. Once the remaining dishes are cleared away they congregate in the foyer to put on their coats and boots. Mary Margaret and David thank Regina and Henry for a wonderful evening, Neal and Emma echoing the sentiments. Regina graciously accepts their words, subtle tension in her shoulders and stance revealing to Emma how ready the brunette is to be rid of them.

“See you tomorrow, kid,” Emma says affectionately, stepping up to get a solid armful of warm Henry.

“Yeah,” he responds, his voice cracking a little.

As he moves away she finds herself in front of Regina. The urge to embrace her friend is almost too strong to resist, but Emma manages, running a light hand over Regina's arm instead.

“Take care of yourself,” she says softly.

“I always do,” Regina states, then gives a slight inclination of her head at Emma's raised eyebrow.

Once outside, she and her parents say a hurried goodbye to Neal, harsh winter wind stealing the warmth from their bodies. Bundling into Emma's car, she lets it idle for a moment to get the heat going before putting it in gear and backing onto the dark street.

“That really was a lovely evening,” Mary Margaret speaks around a yawn. In the rear-view mirror Emma sees her father wrap an arm around her mother, the two melting into each other like two halves of a whole.

“Yes it was,” David's deep voice agrees, tucking his wife's head more fully under his chin.

“You were right Emma,” her mother says suddenly.

“What about?” The blond inquires, turning onto the town's main street.

“Regina. She really has changed.” A brief silence follows these words, then Mary Margaret continues. “She still wears masks and puts on an act, but she was... softer tonight. I think she even enjoyed our company – some of the time.”

David chuckles then adds his own two cents. “She's come a long way. Henry began that journey of change for her, but you've helped expand it to the rest of Storybrooke, Emma.”

“Despite the initial antagonism you've stood by her, supported her when the rest of us would have... would have condemned her.” Another pause and then her mother finishes in an even softer voice. “You believed in her – that's all she ever wanted, I think. To be given the chance to be herself. For someone to believe she was worth the chance.”

The rest of the short car ride is spent in thoughtful silence, Emma pleased that her parents finally seem able to see the woman she's known for years. It's taken a long time and many hurdles, but Regina and her have built a friendship unlike any other. Emma's always felt akin to Regina. That sense of connection is the closest she associates with 'fate', attributing it to the prophecy of her breaking the Evil Queen's curse. Whatever the origin, things have never been easy between them and that makes Emma certain that their friendship is truly of their creation – not a product of some overarching puppet master.

Opening the door to their apartment, she follows her parents inside, taking a deep breath of the familiar scents. At some point she'll start looking for her own place, but for now she can enjoy having family around her all hours of the day.

_ And whether she likes it or not, Regina is part of this family _ .

Smiling to herself, Emma pulls on her sweat pants and tank top then crawls under the covers. She expects the contented tiredness brought on from a hearty meal to steal consciousness before her treacherous thoughts can conjure any visions, yet – as she drifts in that place of partial awareness – the thought of Regina as family begins to shift in meaning.

The space around her is shrouded in white veils, the smell of flowers emanating from somewhere nearby. Taking a step forward, Emma sees her mother and father to her left, happy tears twinkling in their eyes. Then Neal, Belle, and Gold materialise - genuine smiles on their faces. Turning to look on her other side, she sees Ruby, Granny, Archie, and Geppetto waving encouragingly.

Puzzled, Emma continues moving forward. She feels a distant sort of surprise when adult August appears on her right, briefly clasping her hands and whispering words of encouragement before disappearing into the white around her.

The sight of Graham – looking strong and handsome – causes her steps to falter. Unsettled feelings bubble up from her gut – but he's smiling. His expression one of peace that she never saw him wear in life.

She goes to speak to him but one finger to his lips silences her. Instead, his warm hands take her right arm and walk with her, each stride taking them farther into the white world. Without warning the brightness fades and another figure appears ahead of her - warmth swelling in Emma's chest as her body immediately leans toward Regina. Graham's arm leaves hers, a gentle push sending her into the other woman's arms.

As she presses into Regina's embrace, she realises a white dress is draped over her friend's slender form.

_ I've never seen you wear whi- _

Emma's heart stutters. Realisation spilling over her like moonbeams across a dark horizon.

_ Does that mean she's – we're... _

Her mind shuts down on the question as a far away voice echoes: __

_ 'You may now kiss -' _

\- and moist, hot lips transport her to a place where reality has no business being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters are uploaded once a week (Sunday).


	21. Preparations

_~Regina_

Preparing the apprentice's mansion requires more work than Regina anticipated. She spends the majority of Monday afternoon keying the protection spells to her magic, adding alerts and observation points in the event of something suspicious. Tuesday morning is occupied by cleaning the rooms that will be used, namely the ballroom and dining hall which are separated by sliding doors. She seals the rest of the house to keep participants from its contents. Although most of its embedded magic is still dormant, it's still possible an unsuspecting person could trigger something unpleasant or stumble into a secret area.

Even though she constructed it for Storybrooke, the mansion retains a certain sentience. Upon first visiting the building Regina'd been unable to navigate to the centre of the house, its corridors and rooms leading her on a divergent path around the perimeter. Over time she's managed to harness the dormant magic, but never established the place as another of her sanctuaries because it’s too independent and, therefore, unreliable. Although she has some misgivings about letting other people into the space, Regina knows no harm will come to them so long as they are of pure intent. The sorcerer's magic had been based in Light, perhaps another reason why she'd never felt wholly comfortable in the place.

Early Wednesday morning she walks through the dining hall and ballroom, doing a final check of cleanliness and protections. Satisfied, she focuses on a shopping list. Regina is not about to work herself into exhaustion making fancy treats and hors d'oeuvre, but she does want some quality and style to the edibles. After all, what is the point of doing something if you're only going to 'half-ass' it, as Emma would say.

Drinks are simple enough, she has a decent stock in her personal cellar. What she's really struggling with is music. Regina has no idea what's appropriate for this event - her tastes are rooted in classical, great for formal gatherings in the medieval era, not modern dance floors.

She forgets about the conundrum during the planning session with Blue, a particularly harried affair since it deals with how a non-magic user can sometimes use the magic around them for protection. Given their varying definitions of 'protection’, the session goes almost a whole hour over schedule, leaving Regina exhausted and foul-tempered. 

Once again, Emma's input is the only reason they reach an agreement, balancing defensive with offensive strategies in the lesson. The brunette is hoping for a quick escape from the scene but, when she sees Emma trying to catch her eye, knows she'll stay behind to see what the blond wants.

“Hey, I meant to ask sooner, do you need any help setting up for Saturday?” Colour has risen in Emma's cheeks, although it might be a result of their harrowing session rather than the conversation topic.

“I've got everything under control,” Regina hopes her headache has not made the response more snippy than she intended. She's about to follow up with a dismissive, 'thank you' when she remembers her music dilemma. Between setting up for the town hall dance and taking Henry to his Thursday after school activities, she's going to have precious little time to construct a playlist.

“Actually, there is something you can do,” she says instead, nervousness adding to the pressure in her head. She does not like asking for help, but the smile that lights Emma's face feels worth the sacrifice. “I have no idea what music should be included. Could I charge you with compiling appropriate songs?”

“Yes! I am happy to do that! Who... what format do they need to be – the songs?” The blond asks, her blush deepening.

“Format?”

“Like CD, mp3... cassette?”

“I'm not that backward,” Regina scoffs, smiling despite herself. “I have a system that will rotate between four CDs at a time. Four CDs should be more than enough to last the event.”

“Ok, have you invited anyone?” Emma is shifting from foot to foot, her face inscrutable.

“Informally I've invited everyone I've encountered except the fairies.”

“Good, ok,” Emma responds, taking a breath, “do you want me to spread the word during my rounds tomorrow in case someone got missed?”

“If you'd like,” Regina replies, her disappointment growing. What she'd initially envisioned as a relatively intimate evening is rapidly turning into a public event.

_ Not that it's safe for me to be alone with Emma anyway,  _ she chides,  _ especially with alcohol present. _

Her mind travels back to Thanksgiving – when she'd almost kissed Emma. Thankfully, Henry's timely intervention had saved them all from serious unpleasantness.

_ Really, I should be thanking Emma's desire to invite as many people as possible, _ she thinks resolutely, _ then I might not do something I regret. _

“Alright, I'll bring the CDs to the dance,” Emma's voice breaks through her introspection. “We're still transporting people in Alonso's van?”

“Outside the town hall at 8pm,” Regina confirms, hoping that she can leave soon. A soak in a hot bath followed by a nice long nap is sounding extremely good.

“Ok, well, I'll get to work.” Picking up on the woman's low mood, Emma continues gently. “Don't worry Regina, it'll be great.”

For a second, the brunette thinks her friend is going to brush aside the strand of hair that keeps falling into her eyes. Then the blond sweeps the hand through her own hair instead and disappointment nearly chokes Regina.

_ Why must fate be so cruel?  _ She asks forlornly, pressing her forehead against the steering wheel moments later.  _ This girls-only dance was a horrible idea. _

* * *

_ What a luxury not caring has been, _ Regina muses, swallowing her second Advil of the day. Saturday, December 6th is shaping up to be the worst in living memory... at least where her patience is concerned. Soon she'll have to face the stupidity, high-strung nerves, and bossiness without assistance until the commencement of 9pm happy hour.

Even the prospect of that, which should have been a boon to the frantic preparations of the parent council, has her twitching with nerves. She will need a lot of alcohol to get through an evening of reveling commoners and a blond who is sure to be as attractive as ever.

_ If I do embarrass myself I can at least blame the drink, _ she tells herself. Not that she wants anything to happen. Such a thing would only open a can of worms she'd rather remained tightly shut.

As she helps Mary Ann put the finishing touches on the beverage table - all functional liquids like juice and water – Regina wonders why she hasn't heard more whispering about her 'after party'. Usually anything unusual would be the talk of Storybrooke, yet thus far she's only overheard three separate mentions, with Neal being the sole individual to confront her directly.

She knows Emma's been telling people, she'd spotted the blond with what looked suspiciously like a list entering the poorer districts. The Saviour seems determined that as many women as possible attend, a fact that Regina is still conflicted about. Deciding to think positively - she really is making an effort to do that – the brunette focuses on surviving the sorry excuse for a dance where both genders will try their best to enjoy themselves in orthodox ways. At least it should be mildly amusing.

At 5:30pm the first attendees begin arriving. Regina is stationed at the back of the room overseeing the snacks, an assignment that demonstrates more profoundly than any elaborate speech how the people of Storybrooke feel about her. More than the sentiment, Regina appreciates the post for its view of the town hall and proximity to an exit.

_ Always have an escape plan, _ she thinks, a corner of her mouth lifting. _ There's a piece of advice that's always served me well. _

Regina can see the couples as they enter, shoulder to shoulder or arm in arm. Rumpelstiltskin and Belle appear soon after the doors open, the former in a sleek blue suit and latter in a pale yellow evening dress. Belle is aglow with excitement while her partner smiles politely. Neal arrives a few moments later, craning his neck to scan the room as soon as he's entered.

When he sees Regina he gives a small nod which she returns. For Henry's sake she needs to maintain a cordial relationship with the man, but she'd meant it when she'd advised him to let Emma go. He can pretend all he wants, but the man is obviously not over her. Regina does not want to have to weigh Henry's feelings over Emma's so she's tried, in the nicest way she can muster, to deter him. The occasion at Thanksgiving dinner had seemed fitting enough, pulling him aside when he'd been ogling Emma in the great room.

_ In some ways it'd be easier if they did get back together,  _ Regina acknowledges, drawing logic around her emotions like a shield. Henry could make arrangements to see them together, Emma'd have a man to have children with, and the bridge between their families might truly mend.

_ And I could crush the stubborn hope that insists on pointing out how lovely – how good... how I feel about her. _

Despite her rationalisation, Regina will never push Emma toward Neal. She's been pushed too much in her own life and is not about to treat someone she cares for that way. 

Hook's entrance brings her attention back to the present. The man isn't wearing leather for a change, a crisp black shirt and jeans his idea of 'dressed up'. He, too, stops and looks around the room. His search is interrupted by Mary Margaret and David who lead him over to the right side of the room where Neal is already standing. Although she's partially hoping for some drama to eject both Emma's suitors from the event, she is ultimately happy when they don't start anything. Emma might have been stuck babysitting them if they had.

_ Speaking of that girl, _ Regina thinks, doing her own scan of the room in case she missed the blond's entrance.  _ Where is she? _

A sigh almost directly behind her has Regina spinning about, a serving utensil pointed toward whoever's snuck up on her.

“Hey! Sorry, Regina, just thought I'd come in the back way,” Emma smiles sheepishly, holding up her hands in surrender.

The blond must have deposited her coat in the hallway since she's only wearing a cream blouse and blue jeans, clothing that's definitely unsuited to the weather they're currently experiencing.

“I would have hoped you'd learned not to sneak up on me by now,” Regina states exasperatedly, although there's no bite in her voice.

“Sometimes I don't realise how quiet I am,” Emma explains, leaning past Regina to look at the snacks. “Looks like you got the prime location.”

“I am not a glutton.”

“There's nothing wrong with a little excess, so long as you work it off.” Smirking, Emma snatches a cookie from the table and dodges Regina's grab.

“You've got to pay for that!”

“You know where I live,” Emma laughs, taking a bite.

“A fine example you're setting, Sheriff.” Regina can feel the heat rising in her body. Emma isn't even standing next to her anymore. Apparently all it takes to get her hot for the Saviour is one of those mischievous smiles.

“I'll pay for it, put it on my tab.” Turning, Emma glances around the room with none of the enthusiasm her would-be suitors displayed.

An unpleasant pang causes Regina to focus on arranging the objects in front of her. So what if Emma wants to spend time with them, or anyone else? She has absolutely no right to feel the slightest ownership. “They've been looking for you,” she says in a bored voice.

“Bagelfire and Guyliner?” Emma clarifies, her smile laced with anxiety.

“Yes, of course,” Regina manages to strangle the laugh longing to bubble up at the nicknames. Emma's reaction has soothed her silly feelings which rejoice at the blond's disinterest. “They haven't made their way over here yet. Your parents are distracting them for the moment.” It is, however, only a matter of time before the beacon that is Emma's hair attracts their attention.

“I'm not sure I'll survive this,” Emma whines, reaching for a cupcake. This time Regina successfully intercepts, their hands clasped for nearly five seconds before the brunette realises and lets go.

“Oh go on,” she gestures vaguely over the table, “you'll need sweets to make it through this poor excuse of a party.”

“Thanks.” An attractive flush is on Emma's cheeks, Regina half determined to do something else to keep it there.

_ Yes, alcohol is definitely not going to help. _

This is when Hook spots her companion. Excusing himself from the Charmings, he begins the journey across the now moderately packed hall. Regina has perhaps thirty seconds left with Emma before he arrives.

“Did you get enough music?” She inquires, anxiety and resignation making her stomach twist uncomfortably.

“Yep, I got input while I was inviting people.” A shadow of the blond's former smile graces her face. “I hope it's what you had in mind.”

“If it's modern then I can't say I'm going to enjoy it, but so long as the guests approve that's what matters.”

“Look at you,” Emma says, her voice turning soft as she leans closer across the table, “there was only a hint of resentment in your words.”

It's at this moment, when Regina is captured in the hypnotic depths of Emma's emerald eyes, that Captain Guyliner arrives.

“Good evening, ladies,” he says with his charm turned on full.

“Hey Killian,” Emma responds, her eyes now looking anywhere other than the man beside her and the woman behind the table.

Regina opts for a barely polite nod of the head, clenching the serving utensil tighter.

_ Stop it,  _ she commands herself,  _ I should  _ _ not _ _ feel jealous. _

The thought does nothing to cool the intensity of her frustrated anger when Hook eventually coaxes Emma onto the dance floor. No matter how she tries to avoid watching them her eyes seem unable to focus on anything else. By the end of the second set, Regina finds herself thanking the fairies for their chaste choice of music. It's blandness in no way lends itself to grinding or other public displays of physical intimacy. Her whirling emotions are further soothed by the knowledge that such tunes are only going to be present at  her party where the pirate's searching fingers cannot touch Emma.

She becomes aware of Neal's impending arrival precisely two seconds before he's beside the table, a fact that illustrates just how preoccupied she is with Emma's actions. Composing her expression – she's supposed to be selling baked goods after all – Regina touts the scrumptious nature of the food before her as soon as the man is within earshot.

“Thanks Regina, I'll take a cupcake,” Neal replies, smiling politely even though he's clearly distracted.

_ Thinking about Emma with Hook, _ she suspects. Her likeness to the man in this regard brings her no comfort.

Unfortunately, Neal lingers as he eats, nodding to those who greet him. Most people give Regina nods rather than smiles but it's a reaction that's still new to her.

“I wanted to think I was crazy.”

Neal's voice brings Regina back from staring at the pirate and Emma. Thankfully, quick comebacks are second nature to her. “Well, I'm no psychiatrist, but a visit to Archie wouldn't hurt you.”

Neal gives her an odd expression, one that might be described as unimpressed or puzzled on Emma, but that just looks odd on him. The scan he gives of their surroundings is what tells her to put her guard up. The man is up to something.

“When you told me to leave well enough alone, well, I thought it was because you were concerned about her,” Neal says quietly, fixing her with an intent look.

“Of course I'm concerned about her.” Oh how quickly her frustrated energy can change its target. Neal's determination to discuss Emma is definitely not helping her forget about her simmering jealousy.

“I think I can believe it. I know you love Henry – but it's more than that, isn't it?”

Torn between shooting him a scathing remark and giving him a cold silence, Regina ultimately opts for the latter. If he's insinuating what she suspects he is, she needs time to formulate a convincing retort.

A small gathering approaches the table then, buying her several moments of reprieve from the man, although his hovering indicates that the conversation is not over. As she serves the crowd, Regina notes Emma dancing with several other men, ranging from early thirties to late forties. Those on the younger end of the spectrum are eyeing her with interest and even some of the older ones. Thankfully, Emma shows no interest in them, granting each one dance before moving on to someone else. She's just begun a stilted round dance with Jefferson when Neal speaks up again.

“I appreciate your efforts to protect Emma. I was skeptical at first, but she's much... stronger and more confident now.”

“Well, being abandoned by those who supposedly love you forces you to be stronger,” Regina's proud of the controlled venom in her voice. If he insists on continuing this conversation she's not going to make it easy on him.

Neal visibly recoils, taking a long drink of fruit punch before continuing. “I truly do see you as a good person – you're not what so many have called you, but I don't want you taking advantage of Emma. She's had enough drama in her life.”

“Your insinuations are insulting.” Regina's voice has dropped dangerously low. “I have no idea where you get such ridiculous notions – unless too much time with the Dark One has addled your senses. Yes,” Regina cuts him off before he can butt in, “I suspect that this is Rumpelstiltskin's interference and, once again, he's manipulating those who can get him what he wants.”

“He has -.”

“Hi Regina!” Snow exclaims. The woman has, apparently, noticed the tension sparking between Regina and Neal and arrived to stifle it. Charming is not far behind her, his shoulders squared for whatever situation awaits.

“Good evening, Snow. Would you care to buy a treat in support of the grade eight dance?” As much as Regina wants to believe she's been handling the situation she's thankful for the couple's interruption. Her emotions are volatile at the best of times and this is far from that description.

“Yes please, these look delicious!” The woman accepts a slice of cake, pays for it, then engages the brunette in a discussion about the evening. Charming does the same with Neal, the two gradually moving away.

When there's no longer any risk of being overheard, Regina says. “Thank you, Snow.”

The woman's smile gains a conspirator's edge. “You're welcome. It looked like things were getting unpleasant.”

Regina nods then, all too aware that Snow will only be satisfied with some kind of explanation, continues. “He seems convinced that I have some ulterior motive where Emma is concerned. Apparently trying to protect someone you care about is evidence of that.”

“Neal's having a difficult time letting go,” Snow reasons, casting a sympathetic look in the man's direction. “As unreasonable as it is, he's no doubt hoping he, Emma, and Henry can have some sort of future together.”

“Well his desires in no way trump Emma's,” Regina snaps, reigning herself in enough to proceed in a calmer voice, “I just hate seeing her so uncomfortable. She has no romantic interest in him, yet he keeps trying to force one on her.”

Snow's expression is indecipherable for a few seconds. The woman is generally so easy to read that this unsettles Regina, even more than the fact that Emma is once again dancing with Hook. It is entirely possible that Emma's mother wants her to get together with Henry's father. Regina herself has acknowledged the positive aspects. As much as it would hurt her, the brunette knows she can live with it so long as Emma's happy.

_ It's not like my heart hasn't been broken before. ...wait -. _ Regina pushes the thought away so violently that a headache springs to life along her temple.

“If Emma's not interested you're right that Neal should not force himself on her,” Snow replies, turning to watch the crowded room. “If she was, how would you feel about it?”

Pressing two fingers to her throbbing head, Regina gives a half-hearted chuckle. “My opinion does not matter.”

“Of course it does,” Snow states, gazing sidelong at the brunette. “You're Emma's closest friend. Your opinion means a great deal to her.”

The sincerity in Snow's voice and the truth of her words bring tears to Regina's eyes, tears she hurriedly blinks away. “I want Emma to be happy. However she attains that happiness, with or without someone, does not matter.”

One of Snow's arms curves around the brunette's waist, Regina finding the contact disturbingly comforting. “I'm sorry so many of our years together were spent in hatred and pain.”

_ So am I, _ Regina finds herself thinking. Letting herself accept the offered support for a moment, one hand briefly squeezes Snow's shoulder before the two women step apart.

“I'm so thankful we're a real family now.”

The brunette is almost beginning to enjoy Snow's presence when Emma's mother speaks again.

“You're the best grandmother I could ask for my little girl.”

“Oh please!” Regina exclaims. “I'm not that old – and don't call me a 'grandmother'!”

Snow's smiling, the playfulness lurking at the corners of her mouth reminiscent of Emma.

“Boy do I need a cupcake!” The object of her thoughts bursts into the scene, a blur of blond hair and potent physicality.

Involuntarily stepping back, Regina tries – unsuccessfully – to regroup. Emma is flushed from dancing, hair a chaotic, yet alluring jumble, clothes tight against her slim figure. Those deep green eyes are wide with energy, their intensity focused unwaveringly on Regina.

_ Do not get aroused in front of her mother, _ is the mantra the brunette repeats to herself, hurriedly serving the blond a baked good. Money no longer matters, she'll personally cover the deficit. Regina just needs the vixen that is Emma Swan out of her sight.

The woman chats with her mother for a few minutes during which Regina gathers the pieces of her composure. When she finally feels ready to face the blond, a disturbance on the right side of the room draws the Sheriff and deputy out of the festivities. Although she cannot get any details from such a distance, Regina thinks that two men are involved. Whatever the cause, it keeps father and daughter busy for nearly an hour. As time passes the brunette's feelings shift between gratitude that Emma is no longer being manhandled and anxiety that the Sheriff will have to miss the after party due to these troublemakers.

Snow leaves the venue to take over watching Henry from Ashley and not long afterwards Katharine offers to take over the treat booth so Regina can set her preparations in motion. She's pulling on her outdoor gear when a frazzled Emma comes bursting through the crowd.

“Hey, just wanted you to know I'll be there. Here are the CDs.”

Four discs in plastic containers are thrust toward her, each unlabeled. Taking them, Regina tries to say something – perhaps thank Emma or make a parting jab – but the blond's rapid departure erases the opportunity. Anticipation deepens her nervousness, Regina's stomach twisting into painful knots. Irritably shoving the emotions down, she finishes dressing and strides into the parking lot where the small van she's hired for ferrying participants is parked across the street.

Sucking in a breath, Regina approaches the elderly driver, his bright yellow safety vest making him easy to spot. Reiterating the women-only policy, she then instructs him to make as many trips as necessary since the exact number of participants is unknown. Nodding amicably, Alonso assures her that everyone will make it safely to the venue then home again.

Fifteen minutes later Regina is standing in the ballroom of the apprentice's mansion doing a final stock of her checklist. There are enough appetizers and alcohol to feed a small army, the lights are dimmed, and, most importantly, the magical protections are firmly in place. Only her magic – or that of a certain someone with an affinity to her – could interfere with the tight webs she's constructed.

Closing her eyes, Regina blocks out the nervousness that's become like another presence in her mind and performs a quick spell. Now clean and dressed in a form-fitting black dress with refreshed make-up, Regina feels far more confident about her ability to survive the evening. Her timing is spot-on as the protections alert her to the fact that people are approaching.

_ Make a speech or just let the party start?  _ She asks herself. Given the state of her emotions the decision is an easy one.

Striding over to the turntable, she presses play and watches one of the four illuminated discs begin to spin. Summoning a glass of red wine to her hand, Regina shifts to face the rest of the room, a smirk lifting the corners of her mouth.

_ Let the fun begin. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters are uploaded once a week (Sunday).


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